Truth Be Known
by pbw
Summary: Truths and introspection are most difficult for those who need it the most.  Eventual Cherik.
1. Chapter 1

_One: This is the story that prompted me to start posting._

_Two: Beta read by **Hoodoo**. Deepest thanks from the bottom of my little, tiny heart._

_Three: You have to realize, I love Moira MacTaggert. I like how strong she is...in the comicverse. How she was portrayed in the movie...well, it didn't do her justice. It's not Ms. Byrne's fault. She's a lovely actress and can do an excellent American accent. So, this story, features a lot of Ms. MacTaggert. And I'm not apologetic about it in the least._

_Four: I own nothing. I make nothing out of writing this story. The only thing I get out of writing this story is the chance to **write**. _

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><p>Erik had been stalking her on and off since he and Shaw's henchmen left that bright, sunny day on the Cuban beach. He followed her movements and kept a meticulous (and hidden) log. He doubted that the others would understand - save Raven (<em>No, Mystique)<em> and he did not care if she knew that he kept a log of Moira's movements.

The days following the Cuban Missile Crisis (_How fucking stupid could one be?)_ he managed to ignore, (mostly) the acute foreign pain in his chest and concentrated on the sharp cutting anger that he was familiar with. He blamed _her_ for hurting _Charles_ (_Oh, Charles...why didn't you listen to me_). On his worst days, he could barely give the man with the brilliant blue eyes (_Charles)_his name yet. It hurt him too much.

Moira had hurt _him_. (_No, my friend, __**you**__ did this.)_

Or at least that's what _Charles_ had told him that day on the beach. Erik believed that it was still that bitch Moira's fault. (_That infuriating __human woman.)_ What did they need her for anyway? What did they need the _human race_for? They caused nothing but problems and served to drive Erik and his telepath further apart. A slight twitch on his face was the only outward sign of Erik's distress regarding that fateful day on the Cuban beach. Erik missed him terribly, but did not feel comfortable going back to Westchester until he had taken care of Moira MacTaggert himself.

Thinking back again, Charles couldn't (_Wouldn't, why wouldn't he blame her?)_ blame Moira because _Charles_ was in so much pain. Erik blamed his tears on the pain not because he finally (_Fatally? Emma could not tell if he was dead or alive. This hurt Erik more than anything he thought possible)_ realized how right _(wrong, _Charles' voice echoed in his mind_)_ Erik was. It was only after observing Charles' remaining students wheel him out of the hospital that Erik let go of that painful breath that didn't know he held. The fact that Moira was not there somehow made him even angrier.

Emma pointed out to him several days later that yes, in fact, Moira had been there. Erik (_Magneto, she called him) _had failed to see her. This news, brought to him so matter-of-factly, only served to anger the German more. Emma, naturally, did not care one way or the other. She was rather enjoying the fact of angering Erik whenever she could. Emma felt nothing when she learned about the death of Sebastian Shaw. Shaw had only used her, really for one thing and she was glad to be rid of him.

Erik clenched his teeth again and watched the object of his hatred steely-eyed. He dropped into the shadows of the apartment buildings across the street when Moira felt his stare. Erik did not understand how Moira could afford to live in such a posh looking walk-up. Did the CIA pick up the tab for such accommodations? Erik sincerely doubted it.

Erik fell back further into the alley, hoping that she had not caught a glimpse of him. Moira stopped and looked around, eyes wide.

Erik did not trust that look. She was CIA after all and had successfully infiltrated Shaw's Hellfire Club and escaped Emma Frost's telepathy. No one had asked her how she had managed that after Charles had idly questioned her one day. Moira simply sputtered and turned beet red refusing to say anything. And Charles with all his platitudes of privacy did not read her mind.

"Why won't you tell us," Sean had asked one day after a long day of training. "Is it classified?"

"Um, no, it's not classified," Moria said turning that brilliant shade of red. She started to twist a strand of her dark hair, not looking anyone in the eye. And for some reason, Charles had found this _endearing. _Naturally, Erik found it the _opposite of _endearing and had scowled at her. The object of his scorn had cast her large eyes elsewhere and quickly changed the subject.

She may have looked vulnerable and a gamine, but Erik knew better. Who else would have (_stupidly_) started shooting at him at almost point blank and not flinch? He slipped further into the shadows to give the foolish woman her false sense of safety. Moira gave another look around her, turning up the collar of her coat, before unlocking her car door and getting inside. She drove away without another look back.

Erik stepped out of the shadows of the building. He pulled a cigarette out of his black leather jacket (flinched hurriedly after the beach debacle from the Westchester mansion) and tried to blend in. He pulled on his sunglasses and looked up and down the quiet suburban street in Virginia. Nothing stirred along Moira's street. Everyone had left their apartments for the day and went about their stupidly mundane _human_lives.

He quickly stubbed out the cigarette and frowned at it. He had no idea why anyone would voluntarily smoke them, knowing the harm that it could possibly do to them. But it was a human tendency, to continue on doing something reckless despite knowing the effects. Of course, the thought of his own hypocrisy never crossed his mind. One thing you could say about Erik Lehnsherr was his one-track (_selfish) _mind.

Erik nonchalantly walked to Moira's apartment and causally flicked his wrist, letting himself into her home. Erik frowned at how…simple and clean her apartment was; not too many personal mementos and books about genetics, biochemistry, physics, Euclidean Geometry and what seemed to be books in Japanese (Erik raised an eyebrow at this). On the wall next to a framed poster of Gustav Klimt's _The Kiss_ (which raised another eyebrow from Erik) was a degree from Oxford University (_Charles)_. This stopped Erik in his tracks. Moira MacTaggert was a medical doctor specializing in biochemistry from Oxford University. _What the hell are you doing working for the CIA? _

He rifled through her apartment looking for something, some part of him wanted to know her before he killed her. Most though, he wanted...what? evidence of her betrayal, her deception? He already knew that she was human and therefore prone to deception and betrayal.

If truth be known, it was Erik who did the deception, was the betrayer. He was the one who left _him_on the beach, allowing Moira access to his telepath.

His bleeding, broken telepath.

Erik clenched his fist and instantly a spoon on the kitchen counter folded into itself. He closed his eyes and focused on that place between rage and serenity, (_I believe love is what lies between rage and serenity, Erik) _ignoring _his_voice all the while. Erik opened his eyes again and saw his reflection in a hallway mirror. His dark green eyes stared back at him. His face was haggard and haunted. He looked ten years older than he was.

Two weeks after he left Charles (his heart breaks naturally every time he think of Charles), he disbanded Shaw's followers telling them to leave and not find him again. He didn't care where they went as long as they were not with him while he went on this important hunt…more important than the hunt for Sebastian Shaw ever was. He ignored the protests that rang out and ordered them more forcefully to leave him alone.

Emma coolly left without a backward glance. Erik knew that she would be just fine. Her powers almost rivaled Charles' own. If she wanted, she could have successfully controlled Erik's mind without a qualm.

Azazel, Riptide and Angel left confused and bewildered. They were followers, not leaders. Though Angel was one of the original members that he and Charles had recruited, her pleas to let her follow him fell on deaf ears. Erik did not care about them.

Raven, Charles' own dear sister, was the last to leave his side.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded, hands on hips. Her anger was barely kept in check. "You were the one who wanted to band together, to be stronger – together, to fight humans before they brought the fight to us," her voice shaking and Erik could almost swear that the girl was bluer, her hair redder, eyes yellower.

"I have always worked better alone," he growled, turning away from her. He held Shaw's helmet in his hands, turning it over and over, idly wondering what it was made of. Truth be known, it was a hideous thing. Erik hated to be in possession of anything that was Shaw's but had found it useful in blocking Emma and later on Charles' probing minds. His thought were always his own.

Raven did not say anything. She huffed, "Charles told me about the first night at the CIA headquarters," she said softly, eyes narrowing. "Of how he convinced you, _without his telepathy_, to stay. Of how he told you that you needed –"

"Enough!" Erik roared and what metal was around, vibrated dangerously. Raven stood her ground, ignoring the metal being pointed at her. He turned and faced Raven, his face stony and cold. "If you know what is good for you, you will return to him and help him forget me."

"Yes, but who's going to help you forget about my brother?" she said softly and left. Erik did not know where she went, if she went back to Charles and begged his forgiveness. He…didn't care, actually. He thought he might have and in another lifetime, he would have been, but not now.

He was not willing to admit it, but the bullet had shattered more than just one life.

Afterwards, it was easy for Erik to fall back to his old familiar ways: tracking, stalking, researching and sketching his prey. Since mastering his power, Erik felt even more invulnerable than before. But that did not mean his sense of self-preservation was gone. He felt that he had more to live for now than ever. He wanted - _no needed _- to prove to Charles that he was right about human-kind wanting to wipe the rising mutant-kind off the face of the earth. They mutant-kind was rising. Charles had said so himself the first time he used Cerebro, touching so many mutant minds all at once. How could the average, mundane, _human_ understand how...how...mind boggling it was to find so many with powers just manifesting. It was beautiful and scary and overwhelming. All these mutants would need someone to look up to for guidance and Erik knew that he was not the one for that job.

But Charles Xavier was. And Erik was going to convince him of this.

But first he needed to make amends and in Erik Lehnsherr's mind his first step was to kill Moira.

So, he tracked every one of Moira MacTaggert's moves, researched her daily routines, stalked her intently and sketched her soft little visage while in his room. His hate was only growing worse each day that she lived and he did not plan on having Moira live for much longer.

He felt better working alone (despite what Charles thought - he did not need friends, only the telepath with the bright blue eyes), never having to worry about others and their needs. He would only have himself to blame if he failed.

Erik was the rare great white shark who preferred to hunt alone.

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><p><em>Reviews are Emma Frost. Gentle criticisms are Emma Frost and Moira MacTaggert...interpret that as you will. <em>


	2. Chapter 2

_One: Beta read by__Hoodoo__. You're frickin' awesome._

_Two: Moira MacTaggert is heavily featured throughout the story. If you don't like her, tough. _

_Three: I'm sorry for the shortness of these chapters. And for posting an update weekly. It's deliberate, trust me. I'm not doing it to tease. I'm doing it to buy myself some time. _

_Four: It will be (eventually) cross-posted at the Archive under CharlieBravoWhiskey._

_Five: It's Moira/Erik, Moira/Charles, Erik/Charles._

_Six: Angst, ahoy! _

_Seven: I play with time. And point of view. Hopefully, I have done a good enough job of when you know whose point of view it is and the timing of the section. If not, I haven't done my job._

_Eight: I own nothing. I make nothing out of writing this story. The only thing I get out of writing this story is the chance to__write__._

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><p>Erik remembered seeing the soft human for the very first time. It was right after his disastrous attempt of pulling Shaw's submarine out of the Floridian waters where Charles had pulled him out - saved him really. She had come running down the ship stairs concern and worry etched over her face, her dark straight hair falling over her eyes as she rushed to Charles's side with a blanket.<p>

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" she demanded throwing the blanket over him.

Charles had laughed at that and gestured at Erik. "Please, get my new friend a blanket," was all he said. Moira glanced at him and blinked dumbfounded - _Where the hell had he come from_? Erik stared hard back at her glancing at her hands on Charles' shoulders and narrowed his eyes further at the agent. Something deep inside him stirred and for the briefest of moments he was _jealous_ of Moira's hands being on Charles. Already Erik knew, even if he did not understand or acknowledged it outright, that Charles _belonged_ to him, which made Moira (besides Shaw) enemy number one.

However, under this animosity, was another emotion - one that he would recognize later on - pure and simple lust. Like Charles, a few previous weeks before, Erik felt _lust_ for this woman standing there with her hands on Charles' shoulders. He did not understand this feeling and probably never could - his constant thoughts were focused on revenge.

"_What will you do, if you ever get your revenge," Charles asked him one night, limbs and sheets were tangled. Erik's hand rested gently on Charles' chest, enjoying the rise and fall of his lover's breathe. The only light in the room came from the moon outside._

_Erik turned towards him and propped his head on his hand. He gazed at Charles in the moonlight and loved the way he looked. In front of him wasn't the usual crisp Charles Xavier but one rumpled looking and decidedly delicious man. Charles knowing Erik's avoidance tactic only met his gaze and waited patiently for an answer. _

_Erik, hoping to avoid the answer, pressed his nose against Charles' temple and inhaled smelling sweat, shampoo and something else...honey? Chamomile? Cinnamon? Mint? His hand slid further up Charles' chest hoping to distract the telepath._

_Charles only raised his eyebrow at the German and asked him again, this time in a firmer, if still gentle, tone. _

_Erik sighed and plopped back down on the pillow under him clearly peeved. "I haven't thought that far ahead," he finally admitted not looking at the telepath. The fact was this, Erik did not know __**who**__ he was without his constant search for Sebastian Shaw and the other people who had tortured and experimented on him. Who was he without this clearly defined definition of killer? _

"_Do you think killing will bring you peace?" This question had been the constant in their tentative fresh relationship - or whatever it was. It made Erik's head ache and knew it irked Charles as well, but his answer was always the same._

"_Peace was never an option."_

_Erik had never known anything but revenge._

Moira, for all her strength (_stupidity)_narrowed her eyes in return and nodded stiffly at him. She stood up and went to get a blanket for the sopping wet man. "Do you always solicit such expressions of admiration, my friend?" Charles asked him offhandedly. He was peeling off his shoes and socks, rubbing his feet to get the warmth flowing again. The question threw Erik for a loop. Charles had noticed, of course, he always noticed.

Erik trained his glare onto the man. "Is this some kind of joke?" He spit out lowly, not knowing what to make of his current situation or how to get out.

The other man looked up in surprise. "No," he said softly. He placed two fingers to the side of his head and Erik heard him clearly. **This is not a joke, my friend. What I said to you in the water, was true. You are not alone. **Erik stared at him, almost uncomprehending what the other man had just said.

"Stay out of my head," was all Erik could say, eyes wide. Inside, Erik was shaking from the almost unacknowledged amount of power this man held. Erik stared at him, committing the shorter man to memory. He suddenly felt more in danger than he had been in the water. The man across from him, (W_as it Charles?)_, only stared back at him blandly and unflinching. Erik noticed the intense blueness of his eyes and the ridiculous clothing he wore. _What is he, a professor?_ _Did I hit my head?_

The _human_ woman came back and tossed a blanket at Erik's head, obscuring his vision of the man across from him. When he pulled the rough wool blanket from his head, Charles and the woman were walking towards the end of the hall and into a narrow room. Without turning around, Charles tossed back a thought at Erik. **You are welcome to join us, my friend. I'm sure you will want something warmer to wear. **Erik could hear the warmth and humor in his telepathic voice. Grumbling he stood up unsteadily and followed the telepath and the woman into the warmer room. That underlying feeling - _jealously _- roiled in his belly again. Erik frowned deeper.

Already the woman was handing dry clothes to Charles. She stopped and sized him up thoughtfully. Erik's narrowed gaze fell back on her again. Truth be known, Erik would never admit how much he (grudgingly) admired her for standing up to him. It was a rare person who would not falter under his gaze and already that night, he had met two people who would not give him the satisfaction of quailing under his gaze.

His opinion only changed when she started shooting bullets at him on that god forsaken beach in Cuba. Somewhere, deep, deep down, somewhere even Charles hadn't touched upon, he silently came to an agreement with himself. In another lifetime, in another unblemished life, Erik Lehnsherr would have found Moira MacTaggert beautiful. This thought shook him to the core. He only saw other human as being less than and never ever equals.

This realization came as a complete and utter shock to Erik. He had only found physical companionship in seedy bars and smoky nightclubs, with the occasional strip club. The women (and sometimes men) he chose were nothing like the woman standing in front of him. For all his acidic distain of homo-sapiens, he knew intelligence when he saw it…which only made his reaction to her, all the more baffling to him.

They were now staring at him. Charles again wore that bland look on his face and Moira wore a look that stated her ever growing amount of distrust in her dark, dark eyes.

She curtly said, "I'll get you some clothes to put on," and left the two of them alone again. Erik stared at the space where she was, feeling a little overwhelmed and slack-jawed. He heard a low chuckling to his right and Erik turned his gaze back to the other man. Erik stared into the bright blue, _amused_eyes of the shorter man, confused as ever. Truly, Erik should have been infuriated with the man in front of him; he had pulled Erik away from his ultimate goal.

"Professor Charles Xavier, at your service," the younger man said smiling and extended his hand.

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><p><em>Sorry for the short chapter. <em>

_Gentle reviews and criticisms are always lovely…and the stuff writers live for._


	3. Chapter 3

_I own nothing._

_I apologize for the relatively short chapters. But that's how the action breaks – at around 1,200 words._

_Yes, I know it's early. _

_Moira! Charles! Erik! Raven!_

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><p>Charles was ever so slightly drunk; something Raven teased him about constantly, when he met CIA Agent Moira MacTaggert. Charles had successfully defended his thesis and was now officially a PhD or Professor, as Raven had lovingly teased him.<p>

"Oh! Just wait, now you'll be an extra fuddy-duddy!" She had squealed when he came out of the hall after the defense. Raven squeezed him extra hard, pride rolling off her in large waves. Charles felt dizzy and exhilarated swinging his sister around in the narrow hallway.

"Oh, be quiet, you," he grumbled good-naturedly and kissed her on the cheek. "Let's go get drunk," he winked and offered her his arm.

Charles had spotted the young lady he had shamelessly flirted with the other night and went towards her, hoping to make more progress when the beautiful dark-haired American (being quite out of place in the Oxford pub) had stepped in front of him, the bar and the young lady.

Startled for a quick second, Charles instantaneously, switched into his flirty Charles mode; really it was his M.O. and confirming Raven's theory on her adoptive brother.

"_God Charles, why is it that with every beautiful woman you meet, you become this…lothario?" Raven had her back to Charles as she was combing her blond hair. Charles sensed her jealously, but chose not to comment on it._

"_Whatever do you mean," Charles responded choosing a light and teasing touch to his voice. _

"_You know perfectly well, what I mean." Raven turned around, her control on her natural appearance decreased whenever she was angry. He saw a ripple come over her body and saw a hint of her natural blue skin before resettling on the blond appearance she had chosen for herself. "It's like you want to fuck everything that moves!" Charles blinked at that statement._

"_I…do not!" Charles was flummoxed. _

_Raven finally turned around and saw her brother's astonished face and started laughing. "Oh, Charles, yes you do," she said a little sadly and continued with her nightly ritual. _

A beautiful woman had come to him instead of the other way around. Not that he minded the chase, but sometimes it was nice to be the pursued and not the pursuer.

He turned his brilliant blue (and drunken) eyes on her. And for the briefest of moments, Charles lost his mind. Admittedly, the women he had chased were a bit…frivolous, to put politely. Despite being on the other side of the pond, everyone here in Oxford seemed to know Charles Xavier…at least everyone seemed to know his_ money._ So, while he chased anything in a skirt, he never took these flirtations, one night stands, very seriously. So, to have a beautiful woman (with sparkling brown eyes) introduce herself to him…well, how could he possibly say no?

As the woman rolled her eyes at his awful pick-up lines, she had maneuvered Charles to a table and explained what she needed. Charles, still feeling very tipsy had to reprocess what she had said several times before giving up and staring deeply into her eyes (ignoring her plaintive, Professor) and saw what she had seen in the Hellfire Club.

What Moira had seen absolutely frightened and exhilarated him at the same time.

"I believe you already know the answer to that question," Charles said quietly after slipping out of her mind. He shook his head and took on an authoritative tone; the one Raven said was his stick-in-the-mud professorial tone, "What do you need me to do?"

Moira blinked. "I need you to come with me to Langley, Virginia," she said slowly suddenly feeling unsure of what just happened. He was very charming (if drunk) after all.

Charles just smiled a small reassuring smile at her and listened to her outline the plan she had in mind, in detail. Later that night, after speaking with Moira further, he agreed to help her (but not necessarily the CIA), Charles thought about Moira MacTaggert.

"Charles?" Raven asked as they walked home that night from the pub, arm in arm.

"Yes, Raven?" Charles said staring off into the distance, his mind still on Moira's eyes.

"What did you see in her mind?" she asked, her voice a little frightened and unsure.

"Raven, what would you say, if I told you that there might be more than just the two of us?" Charles said, not looking at his sister, still staring straight ahead.

Raven stopped and tugged on Charles' arm. "What did you say?" Charles continued walking, but only stopped after Raven tugged harder on her brother's arm. "Are you saying, what I think you're saying?"  
>Again, Charles did not respond. "Charles! Turn around and answer me!"<p>

Finally, Charles did turn around. Raven could not read what emotions were going through her beloved older brother's face. "There might be more than just the two of us," he said. Raven gasped. "And they might not have the best intentions…" Charles trailed off. He slowly, carefully and very, very quietly told her what he saw in the CIA agent's mind.

Later in bed, after telling Raven all what he knew, Charles thought long and hard about CIA Agent Moira MacTaggert. He knew instinctively and without reading her mind, that Moira was a good and just person. She was earnest, serious, and intelligent. Moira had not smiled the entire time they talked though he observed that there was a hint of a smile when he tried that cheesy line on her in the pub not to mention a considerable amount of warmth and empathy. When they parted, however, Moira had finally smiled and all the clouds had parted for him.

The more he thought about Moira, the more he wanted nothing more than to press this serious Moira MacTaggert up against the pub wall and fuck her senseless. Thus, unconsciously, confirming Raven's theory on her adoptive brother.

_There will be time enough for that_, he though hazily as he closed his eyes, ignoring his growing erection. Charles briefly touched upon Raven's mind being careful not to read it and slipped into a heavy dreamless sleep, the alcohol serving to muffle the constant cacophony of voices swirling in his tired mind. The minutest of smiles touched upon his lips as he slept.

Erik chose not to confront Moira this time. His anger was too palpable and he could not help but ruin several metallic objects within her home.

He quietly left her apartment, finding nothing and went back to his hotel room to contemplate his next move, a bit angry and tired at himself, though he did not know why.

Moira came home and was instantly hit with a sense of angry violation. Someone had been in her home though nothing seemed out of place or missing, per se, but her sense of safety was angrily ripped from her. She exhaled quietly and contemplated her next move.

Heart beating, she pulled her gun out of her purse and began scanning the living room and the rest of her house, squashing her anxiety. She did not know what she was looking for until Moira's eyes fell upon a spoon left in a bowl earlier in the day during her breakfast.

The spoon was bent neatly in half.

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><p>Reviews are lovely and greatly appreciated.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you to those of you keeping up with this slow burn of a story. Last week, I was sorely tempted to publish two chapters. I might this week. _

_Again, like always, I play with time and shifts in point of view. Hopefully, it will become clear. _

_Also, another shout-out to Hoodoo, my beta; reading a story and giving me feedback makes a world of difference. Also, bouncing ideas off another writer is extremely helpful. _

_I own nothing._

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><p>"Let go! You must let go! You'll die!" Charles was screaming at the top of his lungs. His crisp English accent coarse and pleading with whomever or whatever was in the murky water trying to prevent Shaw's submarine from escaping.<p>

Charles ran to the other side of the ship as the sub sped underneath.

"Let go!" Charles screamed again as he ripped off his coat and dove straight into the water, ignoring Moira's screams. He landed behind a man with his arms out in front of him, a look of angry concentration on his face. He was rapidly running out of air, but he did not seem to care. Charles immediately grabbed onto his back trying to physically rip him away, but the unknown man's considerable strength was not deterred. Charles placed two fingers to the side of his head and in his best commanding voice, ordered him to let go.

The other man vaguely heard Charles' voice in his head.

**You must go let! Erik, let go! You'll die! You're not alone. You're not alone! I know what it means to you, but you'll die.**Erik, startled let go of the submarine fully and let the other man drag him up to the surface of the water.

They popped up in the shadows of the boat staring at each other, breathing heavily. Neither man said anything. The light of the boat finally found them and in the light they finally saw each other clearly.

Erik, who still did not know the other man's name, despite him knowing Erik's name, was struck by the intense blue eyes and his strong determination. The man's words finally sunk in. _He was not alone. This man was like him._

And something inside Erik eased and his soul lightened.

They remained like this floating in the water, staring at each other until they were hoisted into a smaller boat.

Moira MacTaggert was not a foolish woman – despite what her superiors thought. She knew she was being followed, carefully watched…stalked. But she did not know exactly who was watching her. Nor could she necessarily voice her concerns to others. Without concrete evidence, no one would believe her. So, Moira went on with her life, hoping to draw the person out of hiding.

But deep down, Moira MacTaggert knew who was stalking her; even if she did not want to acknowledge it.

"Damn you, Charles Xavier," she bit out, not the first time since she had found herself in her apartment with her gray jumpsuit neatly folded beside her and a fading but still mean looking thin bruise around her neck. She did not know how much time exactly had passed between she last saw Charles and now but she had clearly underestimated Charles Xavier's power. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a string of very colorful curses until her voice gave out.

Moira sat in her car and passed a hand over her tired and aching eyes willing the oncoming headache to go away. Charles Xavier was not the only man she cursed. She also cursed her superiors at the CIA but that was an everyday occurrence since joining. She also cursed Erik Lehnsherr, that maddening, psychotic German that seemed intent to break everything and everyone around him.

"He needs a good hard fuck…or some serious medication," she muttered. "Fuck you, Charles Xavier," she cursed again. "Fuck you too, Erik Lehnsherr." Moira was clearly itching for a fight. She sorely wished that she could just talk to Charles. Ask him why he didn't trust her, why he had for all intents and purposes, banished her from his life. It was so rare for a man to take her as seriously as Charles Xavier had and while she did not have a mutant ability, she did consider herself intelligent enough to carry on a conversation with the Oxford graduate.

If pressed, she was not going to lie. Moira had fallen in love with Charles. She did not know when but had fallen irrevocably in love the very deceptively powerful man. She did not understand it, Charles Xavier was the type of man her mother always wanted her to find, but also embodied the type of man her father always warned her about. He was deceptive and really if she thought about it, Charles Xavier was not exactly the nicest of people. Oh, to be sure he could charm the pants and skirts off anyone he chose to (_and he probably did,_Moira thought drily) but for some reason, Charles held back on his incredible gift.

She stepped out of her car and approached her walk-up. After finding the spoon, the other night, she took extra precautions. But how do you go to battle with someone who could manipulate metal so easily and clearly had no value on human life, particularly her own? Moira knew that Lehnsherr did not like her (hate was too soft a word for what he probably truly felt about her) and could easily wipe the floor with her lifeless body.

She had requested special non-metallic bullets for her gun but only received strange looks, whispers and was soundly rejected. Moira was growing a little desperate. She thought about running away, but there was only so much running she could do. If the CIA file was correct, Lehnsherr was responsible for almost two dozen murders in connection with Nazis that had escape Germany.

Moira had only her wits to do battle with Lehnsherr and she knew she was going to lose.

The moment, however, she opened her front door; Moira knew that she was not alone. She took a deep breath and, Moira, against her better discretion, stepped into her apartment and locked the door behind her. If she was going to die, she was going to make damn sure that Lehnsherr died with her.

After meeting Charles Xavier, that night in the Oxford pub, Moira thought long and hard about the charming and enigmatic man. She was quite sure of two things: one was that Charles was quite the ladies man – just his startling blue eyes assured him of it (and not to mention the amount of charm and _sexual appeal_ the man had) and two was that he was keeping something from her. Moira could not quite place what exactly he was keeping from her. But when he came out of his reverie, he quietly declared that she already knew the answer to her own question.

_But how exactly could he have known? _The answer to Moira's question eluded her and therefore frustrated her greatly. She was quite sure that it had nothing to do with Charles' many charms and his sincerity to take her seriously and at her word without even knowing her for five minutes. She sighed again and closed her eyes. _What was Charles Xavier keeping from her?_ Her brow frowned in thought but nevertheless she fell asleep that night with a slight smile on her face.

Her initial reaction to Erik Lehnsherr was not so positive.

Moira silently observed her darkened living room letting her eyes adjust, when her eyes fell on the tall German sitting in one of her chairs.

"Hello, Erik," she said quietly and flicked on the lights.

"Moira," he said, just as softly and menacingly. His eyes were dark and his face unreadable. Lehnsherr was dressed in his usual dark pants, black turtleneck and black leather jacket.

"Come here to kill me?" she said turning away from him, shrugging off her coat and setting her purse down. Erik did not answer her. Moira turned to look at him and found that he had stood up and was standing directly behind her, inches away. Her breathe caught in her throat and she flushed angrily, taking a step back. "You never did answer my question," she whispered, her voice turning cold, eyes narrowing. Her hands were clenched at her sides. Moira's determination to keep her voice neutral was rapidly failing. She could feel her insides beginning to boil and her head was turning murky with the thoughts of how she wanted to hurt the man whom she loved (_Or thought I loved). _

"You are the one who hurt him," Erik answered just as softly. His eyes seemed to turn a darker shade of green, his face remaining cold and closed. Moira had read his file and knew what the man could do without the use of his powers. He was close enough to her to throttle her. But yet…he remained closed off and still dangerously close to her. Erik was starting to feel the effects of being this close to Moira; Moira who held some sort of space within Charles' heart, his face hardened and his breath quickened.

"You are the one who left him," she answered, feeling her back stiffen. He took a step forward as she took a step back. They continued this short dangerous dance until Moira's back hit her bookshelf.

"Afraid?" Erik asked in the same dangerous tone. He leaned forward, inches away from her face.

Moira's eyes narrowed further and she leaned forward, tired of being physically intimidated. "You know that Charles is paralyzed, don't you?" She said using the only weapon she had left.

Erik's own eyes widened in shock and horror at her words, his face turning red with rage. He took a step back as if Moira had struck him. "You're lying," he spat, his fists were clenched. The metal in the room began to vibrate and turned to Moira.

"Am I?" She challenged. "You don't know; you left him there." _This is a dangerous game you're playing, Moira. _

"You lie!" Erik roared as the metal started visibly rattling. Outside, the lamp posts began to sway.

"Prove me wrong then," she said. Moira was taking a gamble, trying to buy herself some time. The devious part of her personality took over. If Lehnsherr could find Charles Xavier, Moira was going to find him as well through him. "Go find him. Tell me what you see. If I'm wrong, I won't stop you from killing me."

He waited for her to continue. "And if you're right," he bit out.

"Then I'll hunt you down and kill you myself," Moira returned and smiled wolfishly.

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><p><em>Reviews are golden. Gentle criticisms are platinum.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_I play with time._

_I play with point of view._

_I love Moira, C__harles and __Erik._

_But nothing is mine._

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<br>**

Six months, after losing the feeling in his legs, seemed to be the hardest. While his mind understood, his body did not comprehend that his legs were now useless. And despite his strong telepathy and sheer force of will they were not going to be useful again. It was, undoubtedly, a very emotional time for Charles.

Simple things were now extraordinarily difficult for him. Showering, getting out of bed, getting into and out of cars, going downstairs, getting a book, answering the door, all these normal everyday activities all seemed to be just out of his ability now. Charles was not only dealing with his own sudden hindrances but his overwhelming depression at the loss of his legs, his best friend (_confidante now his enemy_) and his sister (whom he had basically raised).

Yes, Moira was still around on the weekends, but there was only so much she could do, especially now that the CIA knew of their existence. Charles sighed, thinking about Moira. Charles stretched his shoulders pushing away the thought that eventually, _eventually_ he would need to do something with Moira to insure their safety. And Charles was very much uncomfortable with his options – his only option, actually.

The only thing that kept him from really spiraling into a complete and utter meltdown was the three remaining young men living in the mansion: Sean, Alex and Hank. Charles slowly realized that he was not the only one battling a severe depression. They had come to regard Erik as a mentor and surrogate father figure, always pushing themselves to achieve the highest of their abilities to try and please him. While they were frightened of Erik, the boys also deeply respected him. Erik had abandoned them on the beach. Erik had driven Moira's bullet into the Professor's spine. Erik had killed Shaw. And while none of them were there to witness it, the look on the Professor's face told them all they needed to know.

And Raven. Sweet, funny Raven. She was the cool older sister to Sean and Alex and for Hank…well, Hank obviously considered Raven more than just a sister. She was their cheerleader whenever they felt bad about themselves; she was their emotional rock when Armando died and Angel left; she was their constant. Between Erik's betrayal and Raven's decampment to Erik's side (they had refused to call him Magneto) was almost the killing blow to them.

They missed the both of them badly.

Hank was slowly realizing how his serum was actually nothing more than a means of hiding his true self. Raven had hidden her true self all her life and finally felt free to he who she was. Hank envied her for it. While he thought of the others as his true family, none of them had an obvious mutation like Hank did. They did not know how it felt to look so markedly different from the rest of society. Hank felt deeply bitter about this but did not know how to express these thoughts. So, he kept them to himself, trying not to stew in his own thoughts and dealt with it in the best possible way by throwing himself further into his work. He wanted to make things better for his mentor, but did not know how.

Alex's way of coping was to become more and more withdrawn. Choosing to spend time in solitary confinement was his way of protecting others. Now, his self-imposed confinement was a way of protecting and healing himself. Deep down, Alex did not want to become a burden on anyone – especially on the one person who thought so highly of him and encouraged him to achieve higher. He had not felt this love and affection since his parents had died. Alex wanted to ease the pain of losing Erik and Raven (_Let's face it, Summers. The Professor __**loved **__and probably still loves Lehnsherr.)_ but he did not know how.

And Sean…well, Sean was just basically lost. He could have returned to his family, but despite his love for his family this one, this _chosen one_ meant more to him. They were like him. Understood him, even under his perpetual cloud of pot smoke and pushed him to become the man he always wanted to be. So, sure Lehnsherr pushed him off a very large and very tall satellite dish, but without that encouragement, Sean wouldn't have ever found his potential for greater things. So, Sean was hurting. And Sean wanted to fix things. He wanted to fix _the Professor_ but he just didn't know how.

These realizations hit Charles all at once one day while sitting in his study brooding. He had deliberately shut out the boys' thoughts, heart still aching after the losses and the sudden changes. Charles could not deal with his emotions and theirs as well. He had effectively cut off everyone in his life that could have helped him deal with the pain.

"I miss the Professor," Sean said sadly one day. The three of them were sitting outside idly enjoying the sunset. He had an apple in his hand and was eating it slowly.

"What do you mean, dumb ass. He's still here," Alex said curtly shooting Sean a dark look. "Don't you mean Erik?"

"Yeah, I miss him too, but the Professor hasn't been the same since he came back," he replied not taking to heart Alex's tone of voice. Sean was the mellow to Alex's high-strung nervousness. He had dealt with people like Alex before and he never minded what Alex said to him.

"I know what you mean," Hank softly said. He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. "Losing your best friend, the use of your legs and your sister is a very difficult blow to overcome, especially all in one afternoon." He sighed and pushed them back on the bridge of his nose. Hank fell silent for a while staring at the sinking sun, thinking about what he wanted to say. "I miss him too, actually," Hank finally said. "Even that fucking bastard Lehnsherr. You know, between he and Charles they actually presented a stable parental unit that I never had," his voice was soft that was incongruous with his current beast-like state.

Alex slowly nodded. "Yeah, man. I know what you mean. It hurts seeing him so depressed and not knowing what to do for him. I mean, he did so much for us. It would be nice to actually try and repay him…" Alex said trailing off. His eyes were fixed to the horizon where the large satellite dish loomed in the distance. The satellite dish was a touchstone to each of them in some way. It loomed in their lives and reminded them of what they had lost. The boys didn't say much after this, sinking into their own thoughts and depression.

None of the boys realized that they had chosen to sit under Charles' study window which was conveniently open to let in the cool autumn air. Charles wiped tears away from his eyes and quietly started letting their thoughts filter back to him. He may be the only one left of his blood family (_Not counting Raven or even that bastard Cain)_, but he was damned if he going to let this small band of young men break apart because Charles Xavier was fucking depressed. Charles was never a person to let a challenge go unaccepted.

The next day, Charles got up extra early and wheeled downstairs to the kitchen. Someone, he suspected Hank, had installed an elevator while he was convalescing and was greatly appreciative that the boys had thought about his well-being while he was incapable of doing so. It was during his time in the kitchen (his first time really since the…accident) that he realized that everything had been retrofitted to someone sitting in a wheelchair.

His vision blurred as the tears threatened to spill. His eyes cleared and Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and made a promise to not hole himself in his bedroom, library and study for long periods of time. He needed to prove to himself and the young men that he was capable of what they had set him up to be: their leader, mentor and father-figure. Charles needed to know that he could go on without the help of Erik or Raven.

But first things first: breakfast. He set about making French toast, like he did for Raven when they were younger. Another lump formed in his throat. Charles frowned and pushed the memory out of his head. This was not the time to think about her. Charles began whistling while he puttered around the kitchen and after a while, the smell of frying bacon, crisp French toast and hot coffee was enough to draw the young men out of bed and into the spacious main kitchen.

They shuffled into the kitchen, still sleepy and cranky. "Good morning, gentlemen," Charles said smiling. He already started to feel lighter seeing the lights in his chosen sons' faces. Why he hadn't done this before was almost beyond him.

"Professor!" All three young men said, almost in unison, forgetting their general sleepiness. They were suddenly grinning madly at each other and at the man sitting there in front of them. Charles could feel the waves of joy rolling off the young men and he struggled not to crack under the overwhelming love.

Charles chuckled and gestured for them to sit down. "This food will not be eaten by itself, you know," he said gently. They grinned again and sat down at the table and tucked into their breakfasts. Charles quietly observed them while they ate and marveled how far these young men had come in the almost year that he had known them. He felt that familiar lump form in his throat again.

Sean nudged Alex and Hank as Charles wiped at his eyes again. _When did I become such a sentimental fool?_

"Professor, are you okay?" Alex tentatively asked eyes wide in concern. He wanted to believe that the Professor had finally come back to them, but the ever present feeling of falling would not leave him alone. Charles smiled at him doing his best to project good thoughts at the young man. Alex smiled still not entirely trusting the situation.

"Yes, Alex. I'm doing much better, thank you," Charles said as he steepled his hands in front of him regarding Sean, Alex and Hank. He was silent as he tried to form the words he wanted to express to them. "Thank you all for keeping this place going while I was…recovering," he began. All three stopped eating and looked up at him, questioning looks on their faces. Charles smiled and tried to soothe their anxieties. "I realize that I have not been….the most…attentive of people these past six months." He held up a hand to stop their protestations, "let me finish, please," Charles smiled at them. "And I realize that I am just as indebted to you, as you feel you are indebted to me." He looked at them individually. "I need to start moving on from the past and start the dream that I have been thinking about for so long."

"And what would that be, Professor?" Sean asked finally breaking the silence and easing his shoulders. The other two looked at him expectantly.

"To open a school for mutant children," Charles said.

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><p><em>Reviews are welcome. Gentle criticisms are given a place to sleep for the night.<em>


	6. Chapter 6

_For those of you who don't like Moira…tough. She's featured prominently in this chapter. Also, I'm not an expert in biochemistry. I'm feeling around in the dark here._

_Time and point of view are played with._

_Oh, and of course, I own nothing._

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

Charles had contacted Moira who stopped by the mansion on weekends to check up on them. When she answered her phone, she could not help but keep the joy out of her voice. Charles knew of Moira's feelings (_Of course he did.)_ and only felt slightly guilty for taking advantage of her. He told himself that he was doing it for her…and for his dream. Charles guiltily squashed this feeling down. He needed Moira's help, he told himself.

Charles smiled and asked her if she could take a few weeks off to help him with his plans for the school.

Moira, of course, readily agreed.

When she arrived the next day, she was pleased that Charles seemed to be moving through the funk that he had found himself in after that day in the Cuban beach. Her brow briefly darkened thinking back on that day but decided to push it aside. (_This was neither the time nor the place to think such thoughts.)_

"Hello, Moira," Charles said greeting her himself. Alex arrived behind him, grinned and waved hello while he unpacked her car.

"Hello, yourself," Moira said grinning back at him. Moira felt something stir in her chest when Charles looked at her and Moira couldn't resist blushing. Charles smiled brightly at her, not commenting on her blush. She could sense the tentative joy from the three young men as they watched Charles talking to Moira in the driveway. Something had changed for Charles and Moira was glad of it.

Moira turned her attention back to Charles. He smiled again at her; the stress of the last six months seemed to have disappeared from his face. Moira felt her heart give a little flutter when he smiled at her. She tried to school her face into a neutral expression, but knew she was unsuccessful. Moira blushed and looked around the familiar grounds.

Charles, gaining that charming cheekiness he had from his days at Oxford, reached out and lifted her hand. Startled, Moira jumped as Charles brushed his lips against her knuckles and winked at her. For a split second, Moira couldn't breathe. She gazed into his crystalline blue eyes and laughed despite her better judgment bent down and gave him a small kiss on his temple.

"Flirt," she muttered not entirely wanting Charles to hear. Clearly, Charles had heard and again smiled brilliantly at her. _(He's so sure of himself. It's uncanny.)_

"I've had a lot of practice," he said and ran his thumb against her knuckles. Moira felt jolts of electricity zip down her spine.

"So, I've heard," Moira said smiling. She walked to the back of his wheelchair to push him back inside.

"I thought we might enjoy the outside for a bit," Charles said lightly. _(There are some conversations, best held in private.)_

Moira could not keep the dubious look from her face.

"The paths are wheelchair friendly," he said gently, "my boys made sure of it." Moira did not miss the phrase. She simply nodded and looked ahead.

"Where shall we go then?" Moira said.

"Let's head to the dock," he said and gestured off to the right.

"You have a dock?" Moira clearly did not comprehend the vast fortune Charles Xavier held.

Charles gave that soft chuckle again. "Yes, I have a dock. And many other things that the boys have not yet discovered," he said simply. "I'm sure they will eventually, though."

From the living room window, Hank, Alex and Sean stood watching the two adults moving away. Sean spoke first.

"They make a cute couple."

Alex grunted but didn't respond one way or another. Sean meant well, Alex knew, but he did not notice the chemistry between the two older men. They had found equals in each other that no one could ever fill. While both men had flirted with Moira (one obviously more successful than the other) it was each other that they fancied.

Alex remained impassive as he winced inside.

This could only go bad for Moira.

Hank seemed to sense Alex's tumultuous thoughts. "You know, he has to learn that for himself," he said quietly. Charles and Moira disappeared behind the tree line. "More importantly, Moira has to learn that for herself."

Charles did not miss the conversation the young men had. He did not mean to pry, but they were broadcasting very loudly. Charles made a mental note to train them properly. He did value their privacy wanted to help them quiet their thoughts – especially if it had anything to do with he and Moira.

However, they were right about one thing: he was in love with Erik (_and probably always will be,_ Charles thought bitterly), but he also knew that he needed to move on. (_Erik is not coming back. You must move on. This brooding, this depression will consume you)._ Charles knew that he had feelings for Moira in the beginning – pretty strong ones, in fact, but never had the opportunity to act on them. And once the angry young German was placed in his path, well, Moira never really stood a chance. He briefly, oh, ever so briefly, felt bad about having Moira as his second choice (_not that he would ever tell her_); she obviously deserved someone who loved her and only her. A brief look of pain crossed his face. Charles was having second thoughts. Again.

"Are you alright?" Moira asked noticing and mistaking the brief spasm of pain.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," he responded smoothly. "I still get phantom pains every once in a while. The doctors tell me that it will eventually go away."

"Charles, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say," Moira said stopping his wheelchair and facing him, her hand was on his arm.

He looked up at her and smiled sadly. "I know, Moira, my dear. I know," he looked straight into her eyes. "I know." Moira bit her lip finally break eye contact with him. That strange blossoming in her chest began again despite her best efforts to keep it at bay. Moira knew that Charles and Erik had…_feelings_for each other. And while she thought of herself as cosmopolitan, Moira could not help but feel jealous and a little angry with the situation. Her competitive streak kicked into high gears since Charles had pulled Erik out of the water. But try as she might, Moira could not get Charles to notice her and so she had pulled herself into the background working on the CIA files she had brought with them when the base had been attacked by Shaw.

Moira would be polite to both men but she would not go out of her way to seek out their company, preferring to keep to herself. She was still CIA after all, even if her superiors hadn't a clue as to her whereabouts.

So, Moira had observed their training and murmured words of encouragement. She was not there to interfere, she was just there to wait n the wings, to be in the background, to let the fledging group of special G-Men get their footing around each other. She didn't even tell anyone of her own background – not that Lehnsherr would have let her anyway.

She knew about his behavior towards her and did nothing to antagonize the sharp-tongued man. Moira did not know what she had done – besides being a human – anger him so but she knew when she was outmatched.

Charles cleared his throat, pulling her back to the present. Moira turned red. While Moira was absolutely fascinated by Charles' telepathy, she was never quite entirely _comfortable_ with this ability to read _her thoughts._

"Oh! I'm so sorry," Moira said trying not to stumble over her words. She knew she was balancing some sort of knife's edge with her thoughts and Charles. She felt a little traitorous for feeling this way.

Charles smiled at her and took her hand again, choosing not to comment on what she was thinking. Moira, clearly, did not know what to say. "How long do you plan on staying?"

"As long as you need me," she whispered, saying the first thing that came to her mind.

Charles tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to him. "I was hoping you'd say that," he said and kissed her. Moira blinked and kissed him back relishing the feel of his lips on her's. His hand slipped behind her neck and pulled her impossibly closer to him. He felt her smile against him and broke their kiss off. He returned her smile. "Shall we tell the boys? I'm sure they're dying to know what we've been up to," he said winking at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Moira burst out laughing and lightly hit Charles' arm. She moved to start pushing Charles back to the mansion when he caught her again and pulled her into his lap. Moira shifted a little uncomfortable. "Relax, my dear," Charles said resting his forehead against her's. "You won't hurt me."

Moira nodded and bit her lip, not saying anything.

Charles did not say anything for awhile, trying to figure out what he wanted to say to her. He shrugged internally and plunged right in. "When I first met you, I really wanted to sleep with you. No, let me finish please," he smiled and shushed her, "I found you to be refreshing, earnest and besides you were pretty damn sexy," he said winking. They were still forehead to forehead and his arms held her firmly in place. He felt a little silly saying this to her, but Charles felt that he needed to say it anyway.

Moira snorted but stayed quiet. Her mind was reeling at what was happening between them.

"I know, you know the rumors," here he paused and cheekily winked again bringing a blush across Moira's cheeks.

"You're incorrigible, Charles Xavier," Moira said laughing.

"That is what I am told" he said and kissed her soundly.

A few days later, Charles brought them all together in his study.

"There are a few things we'll need to do before we make this an official school," Charles began.

"Yeah! We need more students," Sean piped up. Alex shushed him.

"True, but before that, we'll need to rebuild Cerebro," Charles said smiling and turned back to Hank. "Do you know what we'll need?"

"Of course, I do," Hanks answered proudly. "I did design it," here the young scientist paused and looked forlorn.

"What is it," Moira asked placing a kind hand on his furry arm.

"It's not like I can go into town like this, let alone to the places I need to go to rebuild Cerebro," he said sadly.

"Don't worry, Hank, we'll think of something," Sean said smiling at him.

"Yeah, maybe you can call it in and we'll act as your proxies," Alex chimed in.

"Brilliant ideas," Charles beamed at them, waves of joy washing over all of them. Hank nodded in agreement and started muttering to himself pulling out pen and paper, writing lists, and drawing sketches. Charles left Hank to think quietly before turning his attention to his other two sons. _(If the truth were known, _Charles thought, _these young men aren't __**that**__ much younger than me. _Charles suppressed a laugh. _But sometimes they sure do act like they're my sons!)_

"Now, for the both of you," Alex and Sean sat up straighter. He smiled at them. "It would be…difficult for me to go on these recruiting missions. So, Moira and I will be prepping you for them."

"You mean, we get to go travel by ourselves," Alex's eyes are as wide as saucers. "I've never be traveled anywhere by myself before," here Alex paused, clearly troubled.

Moira and Charles glanced at each other. "What is it, Alex," Charles said finally.

"I…um…I'm kinda afraid to fly," he muttered, not looking at anyone. Alex could feel everyone looking at him, which made him only want to sink deeper into himself.

Sean blinked. "But we made it to Cuba and back and you didn't freak out."

"This is different," Alex said not elaborating. After a bit, he finally added "you know, I lost my little brother in a plane accident, don't you?"

Understanding washed over Charles. "My son, we'll get through this," he said gently. Alex glanced at the professor and smiled shyly. "So, do you think you can handle it?"

"Yes, yes, I think I can," Alex said trying not to let the doubt cloud his mind.

Charles pulled back and regarded them all again. "You know, we'll have to think of some sort of training and educational curriculum."

Here, Sean and Alex groaned and buried their heads in their hands. Charles grinned at them.

Moira chuckled out loud, this time, "it wouldn't be much of a school without a curriculum, now would it? Between the three of us – "

"Three of us?" Alex said cocking an eyebrow.

"Well, yes. Charles, Hank and myself – "

"Where did you get your degree," Hank asked, genuinely curious, his eyes lighting up.

"Funny that," Charles butted in, "You should be referring to Moira as Dr. MacTaggert."

"Impressive," rumbled Hank looking at her in a new light. "What's your specialty?"

"Biochemistry," Moira responds without missing a beat. "From Oxford, actually," she added.

"What are you doing in the CIA then," Alex asked. "You could be doing experiments like Hank."

"Honestly? The CIA is just a side job," Moira shrugs. All four men tuned to look at her not believing her. "What? It's true!"

"That's a little messed up, Moira," Alex muttered.

She merely smiled. "Alex, my life's dream was not to be a CIA agent, but to establish a research facility regarding biochemistry and how it would affect mutations in people if placed in certain circumstances. These mutations that the four of you have could not have been anomalies. There must have been something to trigger the mutations. If I can find this trigger, I might be able to predict who might manifest a mutation and help that person cope with it and how to control it better possibly saving them and other's lives."

Complete and utter silence met her when Moira finished.

"What?" Moira blinked.

"Nothing, nothing," Charles said and tried to regain his train of thought and not let it wander. If Charles was being honest with himself, Moira's intelligence was incredibly sexy. He swallowed his lust and tried valiantly to fix a neutral expression on his face. Moira hid her grin and let him continue. "Right, so where were we? Yes, rebuilding Cerebro, recruiting students, developing some sort of educational curriculum for students, and making sure the rooms are ready." They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing their plans for the future.

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><p><em>Reviews are lovely.<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry for the short chapter. It's why I paired it up with chapter six to publish this week. By the way, here is where __**Breaking and Entering**__ could be a counterpoint to. _

_Time and point of view are played for effect._

_Thank you to Hoodoo for being my beta reader. _

_I own nothing._

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

Erik during his time prior to meeting Charles had been adept at a great number of _unsavory_ things.

"_Of course you have," Charles said one day. He was lounging on one of the many leather sofas, his legs draped over Erik's lap. "How could you not hone your Nazi killing skills without knowing a few "unsavory" talents, as you like to put it." Erik made a face, his only response was to push Charles' legs from his lap and onto the floor. Charles laughed and pulled him into a kiss erasing Erik's sudden turn of moods. _

One of these unsavory things happened to be breaking and entering and just to make things more a challenge to himself - he sometimes did so without the use of his gift. So, breaking into Charles' Westchester mansion should have been easier said than done. He knew his _(former)_ home inside and out. Erik stifled the pang he felt when he finally got to the mansion. _(This could have been my home.)_

Erik spent a few weeks casing the mansion and noticed a few new things since his last day there. One was the name plate firmly attached to the main brick column of the gate which read, **Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. **(_Interesting. So, he really is planning on opening that school. Fool. He'll just get himself and others massacred.) _Two was the erection of several state-of-the-art security systems, including cameras pointed in his direction. Erik had not counted on the fact that Charles really was intent on protecting his young charges, given his maudlin tendency towards pacifism. And three was the damnable use of lighting. There were few shadows that Erik Lehnsherr could just _blend into _and this was just frustrating to Erik.

Another thing that Erik could not shake was that he was almost, _almost_ sure that someone was watching him. _(Someone is always watching, Erik.)_

He did not want Charles to know that he had been there, so Erik took Shaw's damnable helmet with him. He admitted that it looked rather silly, but it was very effective at keeping Emma and more importantly Charles out of his head. He did not want Charles seeing how _distressed_ he was after leaving him behind on the beach. Erik needed to be his own man…even if he no longer knew that that meant.

So, Erik, dressed in his customary black clothing with Shaw's helmet on his head, attempted to break into the mansion that he could have easily called his home at one point.

He quietly walked into the mansion, disabling the alarm systems and walked confidently to where he knew Charles would be. Seeing a light come from under the study door lightened Erik's steps, but it was the voices on the other side that stopped him short. The door was ajar and Erik carefully, carefully pushed it open further but not all the way. He could see Charles seated behind his desk and sitting on his desk to Charles' right was Hank McCoy, still blue, furry and heavily muscled. Erik could see that they were having some sort of discussion, _no argument_.

"Charles, we need to be more proactive," Hank said tersely. Since his full mutation (Erik believed that this was how the young scientist was meant to be) everything Hank said sounded more guttural, more animalistic, more inhuman. Not things he would ever tell the scientist. Erik could tell, just by his posture alone that Hank was not yet used to his real form. (_If ever.)_

Charles murmured something that Erik could not hear.

And suddenly Hank pounded the table with his fist. And Charles' eyes narrowed at the young man in irritation. Erik cannot tell if Hank was embarrassed by this blatant display of emotion, but he had enough grace to hide in the shadows (and hope that Hank cannot _smell the fear_ on him). No sooner had Erik melted into the shadows when Hank ripped open the study door, nearly taking it off the hinges and stalked passed Erik's hiding place, leaving the door at an odd angle and open for him to see inside.

Charles just stared into the black hallway and sighed. Then he _wheeled_ himself from around his table and stopped at the chess board that was set up next to the fireplace. He looked at the board and angrily flung the board against the wall wildly scattering the pieces everywhere. Erik's heart was in his throat. (_Moira was right. Moira was very, very right. How could have he done this to Charles?_)

He was never happier to have Shaw's damned helmet on as he was right now, Charles turned himself to the fireplace and Erik could no longer see his brilliant blue eyes. Or the weariness that he knew to be there. Erik knew that he should leave before he was caught by an angry Hank. But he could not move from his spot. He wanted very badly to go to Charles and to try and soothe him, but Erik knew that Charles would only turn him away. The waves of anger, bitterness and sadness roll off the telepath telling Erik that this was true.

So, Erik did the only think he could think of: he left again without saying goodbye.

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><p><em>I'm sorry for the short chapter. Sometimes, that's how the cookie crumbles.<em>

_Reviews are awesome. Gentle criticisms are even better. _


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry for the late update. I am still recovering from a massive migraine. Currently, I am suffering from the aftereffects of the migraine with a residual headache - not as bad as the migraine, but still unable to perform at a 100%. _

_Time and point of view are played with. This may or may not be a good thing but luckily for you readers, this chapter does not shift characters or time. _

_Anyway, I own nothing. Marvel and all its wonderful characters do not belong to me._

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><p>It was several days later, a Sunday morning and Moira was sitting in her living room, coffee cup in one hand and the newspaper sitting on her lap. She knew that Lehnsherr would be coming back at any moment. She knew this. She had done nothing to prepare herself. Moira knew <em>absolutely<em> that today would bring about her death. She just sighed in defeat and let the newspaper slip to the floor.

What Moira also knew was that she vowed to kill Lehnsherr when he found out the truth, but in reality, Moira was not a murderer - it just was not in her heart. She knew that Lehnsherr would be angry, angry with himself and angry with her. And in his anger, Lehnsherr would probably go ahead and kill her. But Moira knew…_knew _that she was not like _him._ She hoped to hurt him, to maim him, to at least make him think twice about humans. But she knew, oh, how she knew, that ultimately, Moira MacTaggert will pay the ultimate price – one way or the another.

So, it was no surprise to her that Lehnsherr let himself into her apartment later that night. No, he _burst_ into her apartment. Her glasses, perched on her nose, had told her that he was coming when the screws popped out releasing the lenses and rendering them useless. Moira took off the frames and laid them off to the side. She sighed and made no attempt to clean up.

Or more precisely to _sober_ up; Moira was on her fourth glass of wine.

Her door was flung open and Lehnsherr had that _murderous _look on his face again. He spotted her sitting on the couch, quite drunk but before he can say anything, Moira offered him a glass.

"Glass of wine, Erik," she slurred at him, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window earlier that morning. Moira knew that if had been tracking, _(No, stalking.) _the people who had taken his childhood away from him, what made her think that Erik Lehnsherr wouldn't do the same with her?

Moira would never be safe anywhere.

Erik's eyebrows went up in amazement. "No, thank you," he said. He took in her pink face, her slurred speech, her sloppy dress. Far, far from the put together woman he met not so long ago. "Why are you drunk? Aren't you prepared to kill me?" He sneered the last sentence hoping to provoke her.

Erik knew that he didn't deserve Charles. Not after what he saw, not after what was _confirmed_ in front of his eyes. Love had never crossed Erik Lehnsherr's mind, not after Shaw had killed his mother in front of him. Not after all that he had been through at the hands of that monster. So, when confronted with the knowledge that he had _hurt_ Charles, perhaps the _only other person_ that Erik Lehnsherr had ever loved…well, his guilt was all consuming.

Moira did not rise to the bait. "Oh, come now. We both knew that I was right. And we both knew that I could never kill you out right. I am no match for you power," Moira said leveling him with a searing gaze.

Erik blinked, not knowing what to say to Moira's statement. He felt so emotionally hollowed out after confirming what Moira said to him that he did not know how to respond to a drunk, depressed, downtrodden Moira MacTaggert. He almost wanted to hit her to have her respond in any other way than in this _sad and depressing state._ But Erik was at a loss. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down not too far from her.

Now it was Moira's turn to blink. She had not expected this. Honestly, Moira had expected Erik to just murder her without a second thought in a fit of rage once he saw what the bullet had done to him. To see him this...distraught was new to her. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if it were some sort of trick.

"No tricks," Erik said stiffly. "I would expect you to know me at least well enough to know that I would play no tricks." _(But honestly, how could she? All my time was spent in Charles' company.)_

Moira nodded slowly. This was not _right_. She wasn't supposed to be mourning the loss of her best friend (_really, her only friend_) in Charles Xavier - especially not when he had wiped the location of his mansion from her mind; she wasn't supposed to be drunk while Erik _Lehnsherr_ was in the room with her and she certainly wasn't supposed to be chatting (almost) amiably with him. Her whole world view had shifted and she found herself almost feeling _sorry_ for the bastard. Moira frowned at him and shook her head, trying to clear it of the gathering cobwebs. Abruptly, she stood and went to her bathroom to splash water on her face.

Moira stared at herself in the mirror. She could feel the cold water dripping from her face as she stared hard into her eyes. _(This is not how its supposed to work. I made a vow to kill him. And yet, here I am, wallowing in self-pity waiting for that fucking bastard to kill me. What's wrong with you MacTaggert?) _

Erik was just as confused as Moira was. He almost felt _sorry_ for her. It was obvious to him that she carried a torch for their mutual telepath and it was not by her design that she was back here in Virginia while Charles was in Westchester. (_Did they have words? Did he push her out of his life? What did she do?) _Now, it was Erik's turn to frown. He shouldn't have been sympathizing with this woman, with this (_mundane, human)_ woman. She had no special talent - except for being incredibly intelligent - and therefore did not deserve someone as special as Charles Xavier.

_(But then again neither do I.)_

During this mental monologue with himself, Moira came back to the room and stood staring at the man sitting on her couch. He caught her looking at him and stood up giving her back that same steely eyed stare that she was giving him.

She was unreadable.

Erik felt his back stiffen.

The air in the room suddenly became electrified as they mentally dared each other to say something – anything.

"Now what," Moria asked tersely. She had finally sobered up enough and was itching for some sort of battle. (_Completely out of character, _she thought bitterly, _but if I'm going to fucking die, then I might as well.) _Moira wanted badly to hit him.

"The last time we...talked, you said that you would kill me if you were right," Erik gritted out. He saw the change come over Moira and wondered what she told herself while in the bathroom. She looked sober enough now and Erik wanted, no _needed_ to take his frustrations out on somebody.

Moria was just the perfect person to take out said frustrations.

Moira decided to shoot the first volley. "Did killing Shaw finally bring you some sort of resolution?"

Erik stared her down. "Are you really this stupid all the time?" (_Oh, this was going to be fun.)_

"Why did you leave him on the beach?" Moira sighed, feeling the frustration begin to swell.

Erik smiled his shark-like smile. "I was planning on taking him with me. He didn't want to go."

"He's smarter than you," Moira retorted.

"Apparently, he's smarter than the both of us," Erik shot back. "Why were you stupid enough to shoot at me?"

Moira's forehead wrinkled and said the only thing that came to mind. "If you _loved_ Charles at all, you'd answer my questions."

Erik stopped smiling. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Moira was itching to strike, but she had nothing on her except for her fists and her wits. Erik felt his anger begin to rise. The metal in the room began to vibrate ever so slightly.

"You should never speak of my love for Charles Xavier again," Erik finally said. (_How stupid can she be?) _"You have no right."

"No _right_? Are you fucking kidding me? I have _no right?_" Moira began to yell and in her anger stepped closer to the German. "_You,_" Moira said emphasizing with a finger to his chest, "have no right to tell me that I have no right, you fucking lunatic." Moira knew she had stepped into dangerous territory, but she did not care anymore.

"Don't touch me," Erik said dangerously low, eyes narrowing and focusing on Moira. Erik had taken a step closer to Moira. They are a breath away from each other, seething, emotionally hurting and needing to take it out on something.

Unfortunately, for them, they were the only two in the room and before they could think clearly enough to stop it, they grabbed each other in a rough and searing kiss.

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><p><em>Reviews are awesome.<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_1. I own nothing._

_2. Hoodoo is an awesome beta reader, even if Hoodoo does not think that I need her._

_3. I play with time and point of view. I get the feeling that I lose people with my time and point of view shifts. My apologies. To be helpful, this current chapter takes place in the "present time," being late 1963. The first part Charles is the central figure, set about three to six months before the "present". The second part Moira and Erik are the central figures and is set in the "present" about the mid-sixties. And the last part Moira is the central figure, also the "present"._

_4. If you haven't figured it out, Moira plays an important role in this chapter. Oh, and she and Erik get...acquainted. _

_Onwards!_

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><p>Hank ordered the parts he needed to rebuild Cerebo. After he dispatched Sean and Alex to get the necessary materials, Hank and Charles sat quietly in Charles' study, looking out the window.<p>

"Do you hate him," Hank asked quietly - almost too quietly. He did not turn to face his friend and mentor.

Charles surprised, turned to look at the furry blue scientist. "Do I hate Erik?" The word _hate_ stumbled from his lips. Truly he did not think himself capable of hating anyone, but in this case, Charles' emotions were volatile. Charles pursed his lips and thought about it. "Sometimes I do hate him," Charles paused here. "Sometimes I can't believe that there would be any other emotion but love for the man. Other times, the amount of rage seems insurmountable. It's those times when I am glad for that fucking helmet or else I would find and kill him," Charles said, an angry line forming across his forehead. "But then there are those other times, I think I should have _tried harder_ to change his mind. Tried harder to reach and _heal_ him." Charles stopped as he tried to ride the wave of emotions he felts.

"You cannot heal everyone you meet, Charles," Hank said. "Some people just do not want to be healed."

Charles said nothing, continuing to stare out the window in an angry haze.

"He was right, you know," Charles finally said, not acknowledging Hank's statement.

Hank finally turned to Charles, raising his eyebrow. Hank still needed his glasses, so to see him in his natural state with glasses on, was almost comical. But Charles would never laugh at Henry McCoy. Not even in a friendly way. Charles knew that Henry McCoy would kill anyone who would laugh at him now.

Charles smiled thinly at the unasked question. "He was right about how naive I am," Charles said and rolled away from the window leaving Hank in his wake.

Moira broke apart from Erik and slapped him in the face. Erik smiled his shark-like smile again and pulled her roughly to him again, ignoring her feigned cries. Both of them knew, somewhere deep down inside, that they needed this; that if the other could not have Charles Xavier, then they could fuck each other. The thought did not sicken them because if the truth were known, they were finally getting down to brass tacks about their own thick unresolved sexual tension around each other.

Erik could never properly divide his attention between Moira and Charles. Oh, to be sure, Charles was always first in his attention and Moira a very distant second. But he did look, oh did he look. He liked the swell of her breast in her plain grey jumpsuit. He liked the way she smiled when she thought no one else was looking. He liked the look of her long, lean legs as they peeked out from under her skirts.

And he knew that Moira looked as well. He had caught her several times looking at him when she thought he wasn't looking. Erik grinned cockily at her when he caught her looking causing her to flush and turn away from him. But she still looked and looked _hard._

Moira wanted him as much as Erik wanted her.

But of course, Erik _preferred_, no _loved_ Charles. Moira was just an object of his lust. Erik was sure that no _human_ woman could ever approach what he and Charles have…_had._ Moira was part of the ruling class – the type of class that would stop at nothing to destroy mutants the world over, not caring if another Holocaust occurred. Moira was just frivolous, something to be used and then discarded. He eagerly tamped down the (_rational, Charles would have said in irritation_) irrational part of this brain that suggested to him that Moira was more than just what he was projecting onto her. _(Desirewantneed. Oh!)_

Moira was pulling at Erik's clothing, ripping it from his body, her hands skimming over his hard muscles. She was hot, much, much too hot. All thoughts were animalistic and driven on pure instinct. Erik was pushing Moira down onto her couch, hands all over her, bringing a deep moan from Moira's mouth. Erik smirked hungrily at her and pressed his cock firmly into her stomach. Moira's hips bucked from the contact, making Erik grin ever so cockily again at her. One hand glided into her hair and pulled on the dark tresses forcing Moira's face away from his own. They stared at each other, panting heavily, aware of the heat, the hate and the _lust_ between them. It was thick and palpable and something they hadn't considered before. They continued to stare at each other, dark blue eyes sinking into brown almost black eyes, before Erik pulled her into another rough and heated kiss, his tongue demanding entrance which Moira was only willing to oblige.

Moira tried uselessly to gain control of the situation. But Erik was too strong and Moira was too far gone to fight him effectively. She felt herself tumble down the slippery slope of desire. This was _Erik Lehnsherr_, the man who had paralyzed Charles Xavier, the man whom Erik supposedly _loved._ Moira wasn't supposed to be fucking him. It didn't make any sense to her, but then again nothing in her current situation made sense to her.

Moira could feel his hard cock through clothing and it jarred her a bit to find herself in this position. Erik's lips left her's and she could feel him plant his mouth on the side of her neck. She could feel him sucking and biting the side of her neck as she dimly thought that there will be a _scar _or at the very least a _bruise_ there in the morning. Her own hands were running up and down his muscular back absently amazed at the hardness of it, _of him, _really. Her hands traveled to the front of his body, feeling more muscle and scars from years of torture, abuse and frenetic hunting. His gaze darkened as her hands brushed against his straining cock and he captured her mouth again, biting her lower lip.

Without thinking, Erik was marking Moira as his own. He could almost, _almost_ hear Charles chuckling in his head sadly. (_Oh, my friend, you're marking her in the same way that you've marked me.)_

Erik's own hands made quick work of Moira's clothing and worked their way down her lithe and supple body, feeling every curve. She arched up as Erik's fingers found the warmth and wetness of her as he roughly pushed two fingers inside. Moira gasped and pressed herself flush against Erik's body. Dazed she reached between them and grasped his hard length. He grunted and shifted his hips against her, bringing his straining cock closer to her wetness. Moira grasped him harder and began to stroke him, twisting ever so slightly causing another groan to come from him lips. There were no words between them. There was no love here. Only hurt, anger and lust - lots and lots of lust; lust for each other, but more importantly lust for the man they both love but cannot have. The lust spoke volumes, heady and swirling. It drove all thoughts of blame and hurt out of their minds.

Erik pushed her thighs apart and roughly entered Moira in one swoop, drawing an "Erik," out of her mouth. And then his mouth was devouring her's again drawing the air out of her lungs into his. There was too much warmth, too much tightness, just too fucking much and suddenly they are one together with Erik spilling his seed into Moira. Moira convulsed around Erik's cock tightly drawing him further into her as her own orgasm rippled through her. Erik panted, dropping his head next to her ear and all she can hear is his breathe against her's. They were gasping for breath, bodies slick with sweat, eyes unfocused and limbs too heavy to lift. Erik collapsed on the floor bringing with him Moira. Their eyes slip shut, their arms around each other.

Dimly, Moira and Erik can hear Charles softly and sadly chuckling again.

The next day, Moria found that she was in bed, alone, tucked in and clearly naked. Bolting upright, she put her hands to her head as it started swimming. "Too much to drink, too much fucking drink," she muttered, head still foggy from last night's event. _(Last night's event?)_

And then she remembers what transpired last night and moans in frustration and strangely enough in desire and need. She ran her hands over her body as if trying to claim it again from Lehnsherr. She stood unsteadily and walked into her bathroom to examine the damage that she knew Erik left on her neck. She was rewarded with a large darkening bruise when her eyes landed on the reflection in the mirror. Her brow furrowed in anger.

"Fuck," was all Moira could say. "Damnit." She knew that Lehnsherr had long since left her apartment and she also knew that he would not bring himself to kill her now. Something, inadvertently, clicked in Lehnsherr's mind. Moira also knew that she could not bring herself to kill Erik Lehnsherr either. It is not for her that this decision was made for, but for Charles. She always knew that she was a very distant second to Lehnsherr.

"Damn you, Charles," was all Moira could say before the tears started to slip down her eyes.

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><p><em>Reviews are lovely.<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_1. Regarding time and point of view, I play with it. It is my toy. However, if you are confused...it is basically six months before the "present time" of the mid-sixties. Moira and Alex are featured. And it's angsty._

_2. Regardless of what Hoodoo thinks, I still need her as a beta reader. So, there. :)_

_3. Thanks for hanging in there, readers. I know it's long and arduous. But I'm keeping to a time table that allows me to write and to have it beta read._

_4. Sorry for my shoddy formatting last week. _

_5. I own nothing._

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><p>Moira felt at odds with herself. The CIA left her a message at her apartment in Langely. At first it was ever so polite but as time went on the messages became more and more clipped, angry and demanding. They had no idea where she went but took a guess as to where she might have been. Moira wanted to report back to the CIA but Charles was clearly blocking her attempts.<p>

This wasn't the only reason why Moira was at odds. Not once but twice Charles had called her by Erik's name while in the throes of passion. While the first time could have been an accident, the second time Moira's doubts began to creep into her head. When she voiced these doubts to Charles she was met with a wall of defensiveness that was too high to breach.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Charles said frostily, his accent more pronounced than it had been. It stopped Moira short and she fell silent as Charles went back to his genetics journal pointedly ignoring her. He did not notice when she slipped out of the room a few minutes later and went to cry in their shared bedroom.

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><p>The rebuilding of Cerebro was a long and arduous process, even with Hank's impeccable schematics, plans and endless lists. The truth of the matter is Charles and company is simply low on <em>manpower.<em> Back at the CIA, Hank had a cadre of people who built it for him. Now, at Charles' estate there is only him, Sean, Alex, Moira and Charles and even with four perfectly capable people, Charles knows that they will need more…_able bodied_ people.

No one knows quite how _bitter_ and _angry_ Charles is that he cannot help with the rebuilding of the machine. No one knows how _completely and utterly useless_ he feels. No one knows how resentful he is of the others. No one knows how much he _missed_ Erik. (_Moira probably knew this. Damn her observant soul.)_

He didn't try to explain and no one asked him to.

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><p>In the end Charles used his gift to <em>convince<em> migrant workers to build and complete the massive structure in the sub-basement of the mansion. And then he convinced the same workers to forget what they did, who they saw and where they were located. They were paid handsomely, of course; Charles would have it no other way.

And as he wheeled himself into his study, Charles could not help but feel a sense of relief and _pride_ of what they had accomplished. After the destruction of the original Cerebro, Charles quietly mourned its loss. The brief time he had spent searching for other mutants was one of the best times ever in his life. The other times, naturally, was spent in Erik's company, but Charles chose not to dwell on those times. And if he did, Charles' hands would often twitch thinking about the bottle of whiskey hidden in his desk.

To know that there were _others_ out there, _others _that could potentially change the course of human and mutant history. He was giddy, excited and truth be known, _scared._ Charles had no idea what happened to the original list he came up with after the CIA headquarters was destroyed, but he had no doubt that if Charles was looking for mutants then the CIA was also looking for mutants.

He simply had to find them first.

"Professor, um…can I talk to you, privately?" Alex said to Charles the day before he was due to try Cerebro for the first time.

"Of course, Alex," Charles said and put his stack of papers down. "What can I do for you?"

Alex shuffled around on his feet while he tried to find the words. He looked at the massive amount of books behind Charles (knowing full well that this was only a _fraction_ of the books kept in the library), out the window, around the room before finally settling his eyes on the kindly man sitting in front of him. Alex often wondered how exactly he came to be living in Charles Xavier's massive home. But he was always eternally grateful, if a little uneasy from time to time. Alex had never known someone as kind and caring as Charles Xavier but Alex suspected if pushed, the Professor would not hesitate to use his massive telepathic abilities against someone.

He knew this was probably not the case before being accidentally shot in the spine.

Alex finally sat down and put his head in his hands. Charles wheeled around to his side and gently laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"What is it?" he asked softly. Alex knew that Charles could just read his mind but Alex knew the professor was much too _ethical_ to do so…at least in certain situations. Alex got the feeling that Charles was not always so…moral.

Alex swallowed his nervousness and said, "I…could you see….if….if my brother is still alive and well?" Alex finally said, still not looking at Charles.

Charles blinked biting back surprise. He honestly did not remember that Alex Summers had a brother and all of a sudden, Charles Xavier felt very very guilty indeed. He and Erik did no favors recruiting these…_children_…into helping them fight a war. (_No, not children. They ceased to become children when Shaw attacked them._) They had effectively stripped them of the rest of their innocence and childhood. (_Again, I must respectfully disagree.)_

"Of course, Alex," Charles said immediately and warmly. "Could you tell me about him? Do you perhaps happen to have a picture of him?"

Alex's shoulders loosened as the tension drained from him. He leaned his head in his arms hiding his face away from the man who took him in and was rapidly becoming like a father to him. Alex knew full well that without Charles he would have rotted away in jail for a very long time. Something in Alex tipped and he did not know how, but somehow he ended up in Charles' nerveless lap as he cried his sorrow out. Alex vaguely felt the older man caress his hair and murmur soothing things to him. It had been a very long time since anyone had given him comfort and this was a vaguely unsettling feeling.

"May I?" Charles asked quietly. Alex did not need to see the wiggling motion that Charles made with his fingers. It was habit with the man, even if he truly did not need to anymore and it made Alex smile a tiny bit.

Alex nodded his consent, settling himself back on the couch. Charles no longer really needed to press two fingers to his temple to read other people's minds (_Perhaps, that's a boon due to the loss of my legs._) Alex's frame slowly melted into the sofa as Charles gently picked through his memories. Contrary to popular belief, people's minds and thoughts were not organized in any discernible order. It was chaotic, messy, confusing. It was filled with emotion that deeply colored the thoughts and memories of the person housing them. Nothing was what it seemed in that person's mind. But Charles was a telepath, after all, and therefore more adapt at picking apart emotions, memories and whatever baggage was associated.

Alex, for his part, felt first a gentle and slow intrusion into his head. He vaguely tried to remember if he had felt this sensation before (_No, you have not, _was the answer.) Alex felt very tired and sleepy all of a sudden. All he wanted to do was lay his head down on the leather couch and to _not think_ _(No, I need you awake for a little while longer, Alex.)_ So, Alex forced himself awake and tried focusing on a clear mental image of his younger brother.

_The last time, Alex saw his younger brother, Scott, was eight to Alex's twelve. Their father, Christopher, was an excellent pilot, having earned his due in the US Air Force as a Major. While their mother, Katherine, was a homemaker. Katherine, not being a pushover drove her sons hard but with care, always pushing them to achieve better and brighter things. Scott and Alex had thrived under their love and care. _

_They had been flying back home to Anchorage, Alaska from a family vacation when suddenly their plane began severely malfunctioning, flames leaping from the two engines at the wings. After many long and tense minutes of trying to right the plane, Christopher ordered Katherine to strap the two young boys together using only one parachute and pushed them out of the dying plane. _

"_Stay together," Katherine whispered kissing each boy solemnly, tears spilling down her eyes. Alex and Scott nodded mutely, too frightened to speak. _

"_We love you," Christopher said pulling his family into their warm last embrace. He had done everything he could to save the plane. But once he determined that nothing could be done, Christopher set the plane on auto-pilot and came to his wife's side. _

_Alex and Scott can only look on in fear as Katherine pushed them out of the plane. Their last memory of their parents was of Christopher holding Katherine as the boys dropped quickly away from the plane._

_Alex covered Scott's eyes when the plane slammed into the mountain. _

_Alex covered Scott's body when they came hurtling into the hard, cold ground. _

_All Alex could hear were the screams of the wind rushing passed him and his brother's sobs. _

Charles saw this memory plainly and clearly, quietly offering Alex his support when the memory played out its end. _(No, Professor. There's more.)_ Charles was surprised by Alex's statement and continued sifting through the remaining memories, which became spottier as the memory played out. Charles grabbed a mental image of Scott before Alex began speaking, gently pushing Charles out of his mind.

"When the rescuers found us, we were both in a coma and unable to speak for ourselves. The social worker in Anchorage thought she was doing us a favor by splitting us up and having different families adopt us. I never had the chance to say goodbye to Scottie. The family took him away while I was still in the coma. Apparently, it's easier to adopt "only children" than it is siblings. God," Alex said banging his fist into his thigh.

Charles flinched.

Alex did not notice.

"I should have been stronger. I should have been there to stop them from taking Scottie away from me. I failed my parents. I failed my brother," Alex said bitterly. His hands began glowing as he spoke. "And I don't even know where to begin. After they took Scottie, it was a while before they found a foster home for me. And apparently," Alex laughed without humor, "I was a 'troubled' kid. Yeah, what gave them the tip-off?" Alex stood up and began pacing Charles' study, not noticing the way his hands glowed ever brighter.

"Alex," Charles said quietly.

"I was being fostered by a family by the last name of Blanding – heh, bland was _right_ – when my powers manifested. I almost killed my younger foster sister. And that's when I ran. I ran hard and I ran long…." Alex stopped and ran a hand through his short blond hair. His hands were glowing more and more ominously.

"Alex," Charles tried again, this time raising his voice.

"But apparently, not far enough. The cops picked me up outside of Seattle, Washington and placed me in jail. Said I was evading police. I was trying to get away from _myself," _Alex began pacing again. He wanted to punch something or someone. But the person Alex desperately wanted to punch was not present and he did not know if he would be able to get a punch off in time before a piece of metal would wrap itself around his throat and _squeezed._

The brightness in the room was almost blinding. And yet, Alex did not see it.

"Alex!" Charles commanded. Alex stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the Professor as if he had never seen him before. "Control yourself before you destroy yourself, me or the mansion!" Alex blinked in surprised and glanced down at his hands.

"Oh, my god!" Alex said and immediately the glowing subsided. He sat down heavily on the couch and noticed the scorch marks on the leather. "Oh, no," Alex moaned and rubbed his head with his hands. "Not again. Oh, please not again. Not again." Alex was now chanting this over and over again. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I would never hurt her intentionally," Alex moaned now lost to what was around him.

"Alex!" Charles cried out, trying to gain the young man's attention. "Alex! You must snap out of this!" Charles' pleas were reaching deaf ears. (_Furniture be damned, he's going to kill himself._) Charles placed two fingers against his temple hard and pushed into Alex's mind making him cry out. The vicious memory released its hold on Alex and Alex slumped forward barely being caught by the other man. Charles as gently as possible from him position pushed him back on the couch and wiped the sweat from his brow as his clenched hands started to shake almost uncontrollably. _(God damn it, Erik. God damn you to hell.)_

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><p><em>Reviews are awesome. Gentle critics are heaven.<em>


	11. Chapter 11

_Goodness, when did chapter eleven happen?_

_Thank you, Hoodoo._

_I own nothing._

_The first part is in Erik's point of view in the "present time." The second part is in Charles' point of view around six months prior to the "present time." _

_And yes, it will be an eventual Cherik. And *ahem* this features Charles and Moira...getting acquainted. _

_You have been warned._

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><p>Erik was lost.<p>

He had thought his mission was to kill MacTaggert. But instead, he ended up fucking her brains out and then leaving her in the morning. He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of finding himself wrapped around Moira's lithe naked body. Staring at her dark head pillowed on his chest, a growing unease bloomed in his head. _(Oh, my friend….what have you done?)_ Erik carefully eased himself out from under Moira and started to quietly panic. Thinking better of just leaving her on the floor of her living room, he picked her up gently and carried her to her bedroom, tucking her in under the covers.

Erik sat by her side, careful not to disturb her. He pushed a lock of her straight brown hair out of her sleeping eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Moira whimpered softly leaning into Erik's absentminded caress. What the hell was he doing here? _(What the hell indeed?)_ He should have killed her when he had the chance, but something stayed his hand when she looked at him with those large dark eyes. Erik quietly got up, pulled on the rest of his clothes and left Moira MacTaggert in her bedroom.

There was no one else that he could find comfort in. There was a reckoning to be had and he didn't want to face it alone. But he couldn't face Charles yet. He didn't know if he could ever face Charles again.

Hank found them in the morning. Alex sprawled ungracefully on the leather couch _(Are those scorch marks?)_ while Charles looked decidedly uncomfortable in his wheelchair. Hank scratched his head contemplating which man to wake first when Charles stirred. He cracked a bleary eye open and noticed the scientist standing there. Charles merely shrugged and stretched his upper body wincing at every crack, pop and knot he felt.

"Rough night," Hank stated, his eyes flicking over to Alex. He had not stirred.

"Rough night, indeed," Charles said.

"Cerebro is ready," Hank said without preamble.

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly," Moira said stepping into the room. Her face showed nothing but Charles could tell that she was still angry with him. One didn't need to be a telepath to figure that one out. Charles nodded and looked everywhere but Moira's face.

Moira stepped around Hank and Charles and placed a gentle hand on Alex's shoulder. "Hey, wake up," she said softly.

Alex mumbled something incoherent.

"Alex, it's time to get up. At least go to sleep in your own bed," she murmured gently sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

"What time is it?" he finally asked opening his eyes. "Oh," he said, the memories from last night coming back to him. "I…uh…"

"It's fine Alex," Charles finally said. "I'll find him for you." He paused here taking in Alex. "If you want to talk later, you know where to find me," he finally said gently.

Alex looked up sharply at the Professor. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Charles said. Moira stood up and made a move towards the door. "Ah, a moment please, Love," Charles said, clearly dismissing the other two from his study. The others took their leave and shut the door behind them trying not to look too curious about what was happening between the adults.

Moira crossed her arms and looked Charles Xavier in the eye. She wore a look that Charles knew so well. Moira still did not say anything as Charles cleared his throat trying to find the words. _(Raven would be so shocked.)_ "I fear that I haven't been completely _honest_ with you," Charles began. Moira still said nothing, only cocking an eyebrow in derision. Charles fumbled on trying to pick the best words he could possibly say but finding nothing. "I'm so sorry Moira."

"Are you still in love with him?"

There it was. The brutal question. One Moira had been trying to ask for the longest time. And now, now Moira could not bring herself to look at Charles anymore. Instead, Moira turned on her heel and walked out of the study leaving a speechless and confused Charles Xavier.

Charles wheeled himself onto the long platform of Cerebro. He took a deep breath fighting the urge to _remember_ the first time he used Cerebro back at the CIA facility.

"_What an adorable lab rat you make, Charles,"_ _Erik said smiling ever so slightly._

"_Don't spoil this for me, Erik," Charles swiftly responded._

"_I've been a lab rat. I know when I see one," came Erik's retort. He walked around to the front and caught Charles giving him a wink. Erik blinked in confusion but said nothing. _

_After what seemed to be a few short minutes, Charles finally took Cerebro's helmet off. His eyes were glazed over and his knees were weak. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face and body and no words could come to mind._

"_Charles? Are you okay?" Raven said horrified. Her hands were over her mouth and a look of pure fear covered her face._

_Charles tried to take a step off the platform, but managed to fall into the surprised arms of Erik Lehnsherr. _

"_Take him back to his room," Raven ordered Erik before turning her fury onto the young scientist who was currently wringing his hands. Erik did not need to be told twice, carrying the passed out Charles Xavier as Raven ripped into Hank. (When was the fool boy going to tell Raven that he liked her?) _

_Erik almost made it back to Charles' room before the professor began stirring. "Hold still," Erik said softly, his words laced with steel. "I don't want your sister yelling at me the same way she was yelling at Hank."_

_Charles managed a weak chuckle. "What happened?"_

"_What happened was you overloaded yourself in your search for other mutants," Erik said biting his words. He could feel his face coloring ever so slightly. Now, that the immediate danger of Charles falling seriously ill had passed, Erik was now faced with the reality of his close proximity to the other mutant…to another man that he was very much attracted to. He swallowed thickly and unlocked Charles' room. _

"_Put me down, I can walk," Charles said sounding very much drunk._

"_No," Erik replied back. "You're in no shape to do much of anything."_

"_Fuck you," Charles replied good-naturedly, eyes still unfocused. _

_Erik merely tsked at him but did not set him on his feet. Erik closed the door behind them with a flick of the wrist and set Charles down gently on his bed. Charles shifted ever so slightly on the bed as his eyes fluttered closed again._

"_What did you see?" Erik asked him softly. _

"_I saw so many, Erik! So many and so like us…alone, unsure, scared of what they could do…we have to help them, Erik. Make them see that they aren't alone and can be taught how to use their gifts without hurting themselves or others," Charles said. His voice dropping to a whisper, forcing Erik to lean down to hear what his friend was saying. "It was all so beautiful," Charles said after a few moments. Then he suddenly turned his head and opened his eyes to find Erik so close to his face. His eyes briefly widened before Erik pulled back, his heart racing._

"_Get some sleep, Charles," Erik said quietly and left the room._

Hank noticed Charles' hesitation. "It won't be like the first time," he said nervously.

"No, it won't be," Charles said and placed the helmet on his head. Again, Charles was assaulted by the sheer number of minds he could see and touch (_except for the one he truly wanted to reach out to)_. Curiously, his mind led him to Moira's mind…someone for all intents and purposes was just two stories above him. He could see her reflection in the mirror and Charles saw how red her eyes were and her general sad disposition. Charles shook his head and refocused his energy. _(There would be time enough for that discussion.)_

Charles decided to start looking for Scott Summers in the vicinity where he and Erik had found Alex and then if failing that widening his search to as far as Anchorage, Alaska – where Alex said they were flying back home to when the accident occurred.

Charles Xavier was naturally a very curious person – always wanting to know everything and everyone whether it was through his telepathic gift or using his sheer charm – Charles wanted to know _everything._ So, when he accidentally found a telepathic black hole somewhere outside of Atlanta, Georgia, it nearly drove him to distraction _(Atlanta, Georgia? What the hell is going on down there?)_. However, this first time out with the new Cerebro was not about exploring the mental black hole (though he sorely wanted to) but as a promise to a young man that he had all but legally adopted.

Charles made a mental note of it, however, and went back to searching for Scott Summers.

"_What's it like using your telepathy?" Moira asked him one evening. She was sitting on the loveseat reading reports she had brought from the CIA while Charles read through several genetics journals._

"_Hmmm?" Charles responded still in the thick of dense scientific writing._

"_What's it like using your telepathy?" Moira asked again, she had set aside her reading and was looking intently at Charles. Charles finally looked up at Moira and barely suppressed a wave of lust looking at her. While she was wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts, Moira still managed to look incredibly sexy, together, and in her element – no matter what the element may have been. Moira shot him a mischievous grin, clearly catching what Charles had been thinking, and repeated one more time, "what is it like using your telepathy?"_

_Charles was now clearly flummoxed. He started several times trying to describe it to her, opening and closing his mouth several times before Moira started giggling. It was clear to her that Charles was catching the thoughts she was throwing at him. Moira only giggled more. _

"_What?" Charles finally said gaining control of his thoughts, it not necessarily her's. He was blushing. He tried to put on a stern face, but found that he could not with Moira leaning towards him ever so slightly with the neck of her t-shirt falling over on a very pale and creamy shoulder._

"_Nothing," Moira said all smiles and giggles thinking about how incredibly handsome Charles looked, his dark brown hair flopping into his too blue eyes. She knew that Charles preferred to look as professional – even in this late hour, he still insisted on wearing a tie, white button down shirt and blue cardigan - as possible but underneath this calmness was the heart of a man with well-defined kinks. Naturally, this was not something everyone knew about. And naturally, this was something she was privy to._

_The first night they had spent together was a bit of an eye-opener for Moira. She had never known Charles Xavier to be so…demanding, insistent and dominant but yet, he was. And it thrilled her to see him so commanding. Moira blushed thinking about these thoughts. She smiled at Charles and watched him try to compose himself._

_Charles made several professorial noises before finally giving up and answering her question by showing her. "May I?" Charles asked, still every so politely, the picture of propriety. He wiggled his fingers tentatively towards Moira's head. Still laughing, Moira managed to shake her head yes, she sat up on her knees and looked at Charles waiting. She gasped as Charles easily slipped into her mind and showed her what it was like for him._

_**You should make yourself comfortable**, he said. Moira nodded mutely. She saw herself through Charles' eyes and blushed a bright beet red. His lust was, naturally, louder in his own mind and any outward sign of his lust was only a fraction of what really went on in his head. Charles smiled at her, winking and making Moira's stomach dip in anticipation. **There'll be time enough for that a little later on**, he said thickly desperately trying to reign in his desire._

_**There better be,** Moira replied, her voice dripping with anticipation. _

_**Oh, my, such thoughts in your head, Moira, my dear!** Charles said grinning fully, enjoying the thoughts that sprung up in Moira's mind. _

_**Is this how your telepathy works? **Moira said still blushing and trying to remain calm._

_**Not exactly. Here, let me show you. **And just like that Charles took Moira on a telepathic tour of Westchester. Moira gasped at the relative ease of what Charles was doing. They skimmed into the minds of their nearest neighbors – ten miles away (Hold the toast, dear. No, **you** hold the toast.) -_

_before exploring the minds of the townspeople. It was all surface thoughts that Charles read - (I've got to get ready for the big test tomorrow! I wonder if he's having an affair. How am I going to pay the bills? What did she think wearing that dress outside the house? It sure is chilly tonight.) - but it was enough for Moira. She felt like she was on photographic journey – each frame held still for a fraction of a second before jumping to the next frame. Only it was not only the pictures Moira saw, but the sensations, the scents, the feelings of those people whose minds they were jumping into. It took her breath away. No, it certainly wasn't smooth, it was actually quite jarring, but she supposed this was how Charles felt whenever he employed his gift. _

_**How do you not interfere?** Moira asked breathlessly. **How do you not stop yourself from going deeper? Or from trying to change their minds? How do you do it?**_

_**I could, **Charles said slowly, **I could subtly change their minds, make people *do* the right things…but then where would the free will be then? I can't make their choices for them. I have no right to call myself a god, Moira. I'm only a man who was gifted with something extraordinary. I can only do what I can…and I feel is *ethical* to do. I just don't have that right. **_

_**But if you wanted to, you could change people's minds…about anything? **Moira's understanding of Charles' telepathy had suddenly expanded and she trembled from the sheer possibilities of what his gift could do. _

_Charles did not answer Moira for a while. He let the question settle in his mind as he worked out his answer._

_**Yes, but only if I wanted to, **he finally said. **But I suppose my telepathy would have to be amplified for me to do so. **_

_Moira shivered. **What else can you do?**_

_Here Charles was at a loss. He had not yet revealed that his powers were growing and changing slightly. His telepathy was a given as was his under-utilized perception alternation. He had recently discovered that he could project his thoughts within a 250 mile radius. He wondered how much effort it would take to extend it or how far it would go once he reconnected with the yet-unfinished Cerebro. Charles had a sneaking suspicion that he could cause amnesia, and perhaps link up his mind with another's. Naturally, this was above and beyond the illusion and camouflage that he displayed in Russia. Charles swallowed visibly but didn't say anything, not wanting to tip his hat. _

_**I haven't tried anything out yet. **_

_Moira merely nodded. **Do you do this every night?**_

_**What? Go scan people's minds?**_

_**Yes. **Moira was on dangerous grounds here and she knew it._

_Charles wanted to shut down this line of questioning. But there were not many people that he felt comfortable confiding in that he couldn't stop himself from answering. **Sometimes, when I can't sleep. **_

_**What changed?** Moira asked trying to skirt the issue of Cuba. Those scars were still too visible, still too raw. _

_**Everything. **Nothing good would come out of thinking about Cuba, Shaw and Erik. Instead, Charles focused on taking their consciousnesses out further beyond the little town they lived in. They dropped in on random people quietly witnessing their hopes, dreams and fears; Moira commented on things she saw that made her laugh. She pointed them out to Charles, even though she knew he probably picked up on them. _

_Charles smiled as he watched Moira taking in everything around her. He loved how the light in her eyes showed so true and clearly in her face. Her smile was wider and brighter than almost anything he had ever seen. Charles felt a familiar spiked and heated sensation and was taken aback at it. He had not felt this stirring since Erik had left. Charles swallowed the thought and continued to watch Moira. She was saying something to him and he had to refocus his attention back to her._

_**Charles? Are you alright? Perhaps we should head back home?**_

_Charles snapped to attention. He did not realize that he was taking them towards New York City. Too many thoughts, too many minds, too much temptation. His eyes focused on the glistening lights of the big city and realized that nothing here was as sharp or in focus as they were back in Westchester._

_**Yes, I believe you are correct, Love. Look,** Charles pointed towards the city, **I believe I have finally figured the circumference of my telepathy. **_

_**This is, what, 250 miles away from Westchester?**_

_**About that.**_

_**Charles, this is amazing.**_

_**Thank you, Moira, my Dear. **Charles felt himself blush a bit and begin to feel flustered. _

_Moira was now staring at him. _

_**What? **_

_**You're very handsome when you're flustered. Well, you're very handsome in general.**_

_Charles smiled. Before Moira knew it, they were settled back in Westchester. Charles was sitting in his wheelchair close to wear Moira sat. While Moira was still in her same position, sitting on her knees on the leather loveseat, slightly tilted forward. Her eyes were wide from the experience and her mouth hung slightly open from awe. _

_Moira bit her lip as she realized that she was staring at Charles. Charles' eyes were that same too-blue-to-be-true but this time the color seemed to be deeper, as if colored by something else. On his red, red lips was a hint of smile that also held that same secretive knowledge. Charles had long since put his hands down and away from his temple – they sat not-quite-still on his lap as if waiting for something. Moira blinked and Charles remained as maddening and as sexy as ever. _

_Charles, for his part, was also staring at Moira; taking in her glazed look. He kept his lustful thoughts in check, wanting Moira to make the first move. Her dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail but a few wisps of hair framed her delicate face. Her eyes were wider than usual as she stared at Charles. She bit her lip again and Charles nearly choked trying to keep the sound of want from escaping his lips. _

_Suddenly, Moira knew what was coloring Charles' expression. She knelt forward, leaning on the side of Charles' chair. She was a hair's breath away from Charles' lips and as she finally leaned in to kiss him, Charles' arms went around Moira's waist and pulled her body closer to his. She groaned as Charles' hands made short work of her pajamas, leaving her naked on Charles' lap. Charles pulled back and grinned at her. Moira, frustrated, began to tug, unbutton and practically rip the clothing off from Charles' body. Charles laughed a low throaty laugh, which only caused Moira to growl in impatience. He pulled her mouth against his and as his hands slowly caressed her body, Moira moaned. Charles shoved his tongue into her mouth and tasted her, falling deeper and deeper into desire. _

_Moira moaned wantonly again as Charles' hands began massaging her breasts. She fought for control over herself but could not help as she began to rut against Charles' hardening cock. Charles moaned as she did, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her. Moira finally unzipped Charles' pants and slipped his cock outside. Charles hissed as he dimly felt Moira slide herself onto him. He moaned and nearly spilled himself into her once she began moving. _

_**Moira, open your eyes. I want to see your eyes.** His breath caught in his throat. Moira's head was thrown back in ecstasy, her hands were resting on Charles' shoulders. Moira, with difficultly, opened her eyes. She found herself staring into unending depths of blue, feeling her heart shatter and reform itself several times over. _

_**I love you, Moira.**_

_**I love you too, Charles.**_

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><p><em>Reviews are love...no matter what you have to say to me.<em>


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve...and I've been very patient with not vomiting all chapters that I have written. I own nothing. _

_The first part is six months before the "current time." The rest is "current time." _

_And angst ahoy._

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><p><strong><strong>Charles was exhausted. He had been using Cerebro for the last several hours and he couldn't find any sign of the younger Summers. Charles, however, the foresight to start listing possible mutants to recruit for the school and when he pulled the helmet off his head, Charles saw the list of print-outs. He groaned internally. (_This will have to be dealt with tomorrow.)_He glanced around the large circular room and saw Hank asleep in the monitoring room. Charles chuckled before wheeling himself to the room.

"Hank," Charles said gently waking up the scientist. "Hank," Charles said again.

"Huh? What? Oh! I'm so sorry, Professor!" Hank said his face coloring ever so slightly under his blue fur. "You should have woken me."

"I did. From here," Charles said, his tired eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Ah, so you did," Hank said rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time for the both of us to get some real sleep," Charles answered and moved towards the exit.

Hank only yawned again and followed him out.

Moira was asleep when Charles arrived in their bedroom. He slipped into bed trying not to disturb her. He was weary and Charles knew that Moira was weary as well. How long was he going to keep up this pretense before it destroyed them both? He sighed and thought about what he needed to do to keep both of their sanities whole.

Charles was too wrapped up in his thoughts to have never noticed that Moira was only faking her sleep, silent tears slipped out of her eyes and onto her pillow.

Erik Lehnsherr now felt like an incomplete man. Who was he without the revenge? Who was he without his rage? He had lost his self, his identity and really his mind in the camps. He thought he had lost his capacity to love there as well. It turned out though, that he had not. His heart belonged to a man in a wheelchair with eyes that were too blue, too trusting, too ready to forgive. And if he thought about it, part of his heart also belonged to a human woman nearby. But Erik never thought about it, too shocked to think about the possibilities.

Erik knew that Charles would eventually forgive him – it was just in his nature. But Erik was not sure if he could ever forgive himself. He knew that he was broken and that no amount of love from _someone else_ could truly "fix" him if _he_could not fix himself. Erik squeezed his eyes shut and slumped against a brick wall. Self-awareness, self-introspection and to a certain extent, self-love belonged to people who knew their own minds. And Erik Lehnsherr no longer knew his own mind…or his heart.

He had a moment of hesitation after leaving Moira's apartment. For the split second he wanted to turn back and beg her forgiveness. He knew though, that Moira would not forgive him – if ever. Erik had put her through hell too many times for Moira to forgive him so easily.

_"Moira," Erik said icily. She had just come out of Charles' study with her battle plans in hand for the upcoming confrontation with Shaw._

_"Erik," Moira said just as icily. Moira knew that she would never be one of Erik Lehnsherr's favorite people. She was just too common and human for him. What interested him, though, sat thoughtfully in the room behind her, chewing on what she had said to him. Moira knew of Erik's desire to murder Shaw outright and the more she knew about Lehnsherr, the more she could not blame him. She would be almost willing to turn a blind eye while he killed Shaw, but seeing Charles' reaction to that statement made Moira change her mind and swallowed her thoughts. _

_Erik purposefully bumped his shoulder against Moira's shoulder, sending her schematics, papers and other assorted paraphernalia flying all over the hallway in front of the study. Moira cried out in pain and before she could rebuke Erik for his childishness, Erik had neatly shut the door in her outraged face._

Erik would not be begging forgiveness from Moira MacTaggert today. He walked through the city trying to clear his head and plan his next course of action. But nothing concrete came to mind. Erik had not known it then, but his need for revenge died when the bullet lodged itself in Charles' back. The looks of horror on everyone's faces belatedly confirmed the truth of Erik's actions: that he was willing to become the same monster that Shaw was – even at the expense of someone he deeply loved.

The thought nearly crushed Erik.

It was mid-afternoon when Erik finally stepped into his rented room. He stopped mid-stride and stared around him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Instantly, he knew something was off. While nothing was out of place, there was an overwhelming sense of severe transgression. He felt the goose bumps forming on his arms. His ears strained for anything out of the ordinary. Erik narrowed his eyes and scanned the room quickly. His papers of Moira's schedules, drawings of her face, everything he had accumulated while stalking her were subtly shifted around. His things were slightly out of place. Someone, obviously, wanted him to think that nothing was strange.

They were obviously doing a bad job of it.

Erik also knew that someone else was still in the room with him.

He pulled out a bit of metal from his pants pocket and quickly fashioned it into something lethal.

"I know you're still in here," Erik said dangerously low and angry. "Come out."

A soft masculine sigh escaped from the person hidden in his bathroom. The person, a man, stepped out of his bathroom. He was a tall man – almost as tall as Erik, with dark hair, a square jaw, and eyes that radiated cruelty and smugness. Erik's eyes narrowed. The intruder reminded Erik of Sebastian Shaw.

"I was hoping we would be able to talk without coming to violence," the man said in a flat and unassuming accent.

"What do you want," Erik said feeling for bits of metal on the man's body.

"I wanted to see if I could employ your services," he said cautiously, aware of what Erik was doing.

"For what," Erik spit out. "You're running out of time before I decide to kill you."

"There's no need for violence, my friend," he said. Erik noted the slight panic in the voice and inwardly smiled.

"Don't call me that," Erik said automatically. _(No one calls me 'my friend.')_

"Fair enough," the other man said. "My name is Dr. Bolivar Trask and I am interested in researching mutants, like yourself," Trask said gesturing to Erik.

"How did you find me?" Erik bit out. He could feel the metal in the room beginning to vibrate dangerously, melting and reforming itself into something sharp and very, very dangerous. Trask obviously did not know how powerful and_ dangerous _Erik could be.

Trask swallowed nervously finally catching on to what was happening. "I have my contacts," he stuttered.

"The CIA," Erik stated. Trask could _hear _the metal.

"No," Trask said, trying to keep a calm voice.

"Interpol," Erik said. He could feel his anger rising.

"No," Trask said. Some of the smugness came back into his voice, but not all.

"Then who," Erik said, his voice remaining steely.

"People who would like to remain quiet," Trask said, the fear and doubt creeping back into his voice.

"If you can't even tell me who you work for, then why the fuck would I want to work for you?" Erik pierced him with his gaze. "Get out," Erik said, the door swiftly opened, almost being pulled off the hinges.

"Mr. Lehnsherr," Trask said trying a different tactic. The hairs on his neck would not settle.

"I'm going to give you five seconds before I snap and kill you _without_using my abilities."

Trask swallowed again. He pulled out a business card and placed it on top of Erik's papers. "If you ever change your mind, here's my information." Trask swiftly left the room leaving Erik to his murderous thoughts.

It was only after five full minutes that the metal in the room stopped vibrating.

Trask only relaxed when he was safely parked in his temporary office, away from prying eyes…and minds. He took out a hand written list and crossed off another name.

Erik swiftly emptied the room, stuffing his belongings into the satchel and flung it across his chest. He needed to leave. He had spent too much time focusing his energy on Moira and now someone had gotten close enough to invade his space. He felt disgusted with himself but he knew that he could not legitimately blame Moira for this. Erik knew that he should have known better. He should have known not to spend so much time in one place. He should have known not to get so close.

Erik's first instinct was to torch his room but he knew that would only leave more suspicions and possibly force more people into finding Charles.

And he knew that he had to protect Charles, even if Charles liked it or not. Erik passed a guilty and trembling hand through his hair. Now, he felt the need to protect Moira MacTaggert as well. Erik bit back a frustrated sigh, cursing himself and Moira.

Before leaving the room, Erik pulled out pen and paper and started writing.

Moira received Erik's letter a day later.

Charles received Erik's other letter two days after Moira's.

Moira found the letter tucked into the mail slot. She knew who it was from even before she opened it. Moira twirled the letter in her hands, trying to decide if she should open it now or later. She didn't want to know what he had to say to her; Moira briefly thought about burning the letter without opening it. But at the same time, the curiosity was just too much for her. Moira opened the letter and scanned the contents.

Tears fell from her eyes once again.

She cursed Charles Xavier.

She cursed Erik Lehnsherr.

She cursed herself.

Dear Moira,

I don't deserve your forgiveness. But if you could find it within yourself to do so, then please forgive me.

I'm sorry for everything that I've ever done to do.

I'm sorry for how I treated you.

I'm sorry for Charles.

I'm sorry, Moira.

EL

"Professor! The mail's here," Sean said sorting the mail quickly. He handed the stack to Charles with the letter on top.

"Thank you, Sean," Charles said and absently fingered the letter. _(This handwriting looks familiar.)_

"Do you need anything?" Sean asked taking an apple out of his pocket.

Charles smiled. "No, I don't. But perhaps, another trip to the grocery store might be in order, yes?"

Sean blushed. "Umm…perhaps," Sean said sheepishly. "I'll start making a list."

"Thank you," Charles said amused. He watched as the younger mutant left Charles to his own devices in the study. He looked at the handwritten letter again and a sudden feeling of dread overcame him. He did a quick mental scan of the others in the house _(Alex, check. Hank, check. Sean, check.)_ and planted suggestions to leave him alone for the rest of the morning. He then took his letter opened and slid it under the flap of the envelope and pulled out the letter. _(Erik. Damn, you. Why are you writing to me?)_

Dear Charles,

I don't understand where things went so wrong, how I lost control of all what I believed in. I realized not too long after….I left how much…how much I loved, no _love_ you. And although I can never truly feel deserving of your love and friendship, I will spend the rest of my life trying to be deserving of you.

Erik

Charles simply let the note fall from his hand as the tears slipped down his face. _(Never again. Never again. Never again.)_

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><p><em>I understand that I am writing this for myself now. That's okay.<em>

_Reviews are nice, but not necessarily required._


	13. Chapter 13

_Sorry for being so late. Monday, November 28th, was my birthday. )_

_TIme is played with. This will be demarked as such._

_None of these lovely characters are mine, unfortunately._

_Moira...Charles...a table_

_You've been warned._

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><p><em><em>

_Mid 1962_

**Moira? Are you in here?**

A soft sigh**. Yes, Charles, I'm in here. Where else would I be? **Moira could not help the peevish tone in her voice.

**May I come in? **Charles, thankfully, chose to ignore it.

**Of course, Charles. **Charles opened the laboratory's door and wheeled himself in. He was getting better at maneuvering himself around the mansion and as a result was developing a considerable amount of upper body strength. His mood and appearance would have startled anyone who had seen him only a year and a half ago.

Gone was the unknowingly privileged man, used to comfort and ease brought about by wealth and status; smug and arrogant. In its place was a humble man, grateful to be alive but yet unspeakably angry and bitter by the turn of events. Charles Xavier still exuded extreme amounts of influence – with or without telepathy; Charles now prone to sustained fits of anger and moodiness.

Everyone in the mansion knew when to stay away from the Professor when he was in one of his moods.

Everyone save Moira.

Moira was growing ever frustrated about the state of her relationship with Charles Xavier. At times Charles was very kind and loving towards her while other times, Charles was cold and indifferent. She was never entirely sure which Charles Xavier she woke up beside each morning until it was almost too late. Moira also noticed other things about Charles that she should have seen before: Moira knew how manipulative he could be at times; Moira just did not understand _how_ manipulative he was. Another trait that may or may not have been there before Cuba was the sheer arrogance and ego. Moira suspected that Charles was arrogant, but she chose to blissfully ignore it. Her initial instincts were correct, Charles Xavier was a man used to getting certain things in his life – taking away control of something in his life only served to frustrate and anger the man. But probably the most damning thing in Moira's mind was how _unobservant_ Charles was, which made Moira nearly apoplectic the first time she realized it. (_How, for fuck's sake, could a man of Charles' obvious talents be so thick skulled sometimes?) _Moira's case in point was his handling of his sister, Raven. Everyone around the mansion could see how much Raven (_No, Mystique.) _loved Charles. And Charles being Charles _never_acknowledged it or discussed it with her.

Moira thought Charles deserved nothing less than an angry, bitter sister. But who was she really to judge?

Moira gathered her thoughts, trying very hard to a lock on her emotions; a decidedly difficult task to do around a very powerful telepath. Nevertheless, she made the effort. Moira leaned up against the lab counter with her back towards Charles. She was not ready for whatever he was going to tell her - not that she didn't already know the truth anyway. She berated herself for being so willing, so naïve, so foolish for falling for his charm. _(But it was always so much more than charm, wasn't it MacTaggert?) _Moira sighed and tried to collect her thoughts.

She turned around and took one look at the man and wondered why there had to be so many secrets between them. She knew that Charles cared for her; it was just that Erik Lehnsherr far out-paced her. Moira's composure slipped for a moment before she tired schooling her face into something neutral and knew she had not fooled the powerful telepath. _(If ever.)_

"You haven't been sleeping, my dear," Charles said softly looking at her worn and drawn face. He, of course, had heard everything running through her mind. While he tried hard not to read everyone's mind Charles could not help but hear a thought that was practically shouted at him. And Moira was shouting very loudly.

Moira made a non-committal sound and waved her hand. She was all of a sudden very, very tired and just wanted out – out of the room, out of the mansion, out of Charles Xavier's _life_. She sighed and rested her heavy head in her hand and waited for Charles to say whatever he was going to say to her. She pushed her glasses over her head and stared blearily at him, waving at him to start speaking. _(I must look like hell, if he's being so nice to me.)_

"I never did answer your question," he finally said quietly, he chose to ignore her last thought. His bright blue eyes pierced her soul and shattered her heart. Moira felt the tears begin to bubble inside of her. _(I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.)_

"You didn't need to," Moira said just as quietly. "The answer was always there staring at me in the face. I just chose to ignore it. The only question that needed to be answered is why did you bring me back here? Why seduce me when all you really needed is help getting the Institute up and running? You could have just asked me to do that without needing a substitute for Erik." Moira felt a surprised jolt come from Charles. "I would have still stayed even if you hadn't seduced me, Charles. Give me more credit than that." Moira closed her eyes feeling the tears finally slip out. _(I will not cry. Damnit!) _Moira knew that he would try to comfort her and in that brief moment, Moira hated him, just a little, for it.

"I'm sorry," was all Charles could say. He felt helpless to comfort her and dry her tears. He actually felt helpless about a great many things lately, if he were being truthful with himself.

"Me too." Moira wiped the tears and opened her eyes again to find Charles closer to her than he had been. "So, what do we do now?" Moira felt hollowed out, she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and looked everyone but in Charles' direction.

"I don't know, Moira. I honestly don't know," Charles said and took her hand giving her a chaste kiss, tasting the salt from her eyes.

"I refuse to play second fiddle, you know this," Moira said feeling her heart twist. That needling pinprick of want, desire and love began to sharpen in her belly. _(Oh, Moira. Don't. Don't do it.)_

"I know," Charles said simply. His hand still held her hand and she felt jolts of electricity travel up her spine as he brushed his thumb against her knuckles. Her breath caught in her throat. _(Not again. Oh, please not again.) _The tension was building all over again. Moira tried her damndest not to fall prey to her lust. It was just too damn easy to forget about what they were talking and to just fall into the path of sex.

"I'll have to move my things out of your room," Moira said her brain suddenly not functioning. She wanted to pull her hand out of Charles' hand and run out of the room. But this was too warm, too comforting and she badly needed, no wanted the comfort. "Are you in my head?" Moira finally whispered after several long and silent minutes. She was staring straight into his eyes and Charles, to his credit, never turned away from her.

"No," came the simple answer, his piercing blue eyes stared straight into Moira MacTaggert's soul. Charles' hand was warm, rough, and calloused – surprising coming from the Professor. (_But it makes sense, if he wanted to keep his upper body in shape.)_ Moira could not control the thoughts flooding her mind. _(Surely, Charles can hear the clear me? Oh, god. I don't want that!)_

"Why are you doing this?" Moira asked her voice above a whisper. Charles' unoccupied hand was which was resting on her knee was now slowly caressing and inching up her leg. Again, those all too familiar jolts of _wantneeddesire_washed over her again. She felt her head begin to swim. And as hard as she fought, Moira had already lost the battle.

And the worst part about it, Moira knew, was that Charles knew that she had lost.

"Because I do love you, no matter what you might think," Charles said and pulled her into his lap and kissing her possessively and hungrily. His arms locked her firmly into place on his lap as his hands slipped underneath her skirt. Moira moaned and tried to squirm away from Charles but he only held her tighter. His tongue demanded entrance into her mouth and Moira in her ever present need, could only oblige Charles as he dominated her mouth. Moira only moaned louder and squirmed more against Charles. She felt Charles' own need pressing into her and all coherent thoughts were swept out of her mind. His hands ripped off her panties and skirt and she practically convulsed with need when Charles' fingers slipped into her, working Moira into a further frenzy.

"Charles!" Moira said, her voice shaky with need. "Oh, god. Oh, please. Oh, please. Oh, please, Charles. Pleasepleaseplease, Charles." His fingers rubbed her clit slowly and then began increasing in speed.

"Please what, Moira?" Charles said roughly and shoved another finger into her. Moira screamed and arched her back only for Charles to pull her tighter to his chest. "Please what, Moira," he ground out again as she bucked her hips against his fingers. Moira was beginning to see stars as she fought to string together a coherent sentence.

"Please," Moira could only get so many words out before another wave of pleasure and pain hit her. Charles' mouth was on her neck. She could feel his hot, wet breath and it sent shivers throughout her body.

"Say it," Charles said, his thumb rubbing her and bringing another moan of desire. His own need was secondary to what he wanted Moira to feel. "Say it," Charles said pulling her hair and making her look into his eyes. Moira fell hard and fast into unfathomable blue, all thoughts of her lust swept momentarily aside as he _forced_her to look at him. "Say it," Charles said again. "What do you want me to do to you?" His voice was thick with lust, demand and anger.

Moira's breath caught in her throat again. "Fuck me, Charles. Fuck me, hard," Moira finally whispered, equal parts aroused and frightened.

Charles nodded once and rubbed his thumb against her again, making her eyes roll back in her head as she moaned wantonly, riding the wave of her orgasm, her hips bucking forward in time to Charles' stroking fingers. Her breath came in short gasps and Moira fell limp into Charles' arms. He chuckled harshly. "Oh, we're not done, Moira. Not done at all." He wheeled the both of them to one of the massive desk and swept aside all of Moira's papers off the top and laid Moira down on top of it. Moira was still trembling from her orgasm and did nothing as Charles stripped the rest of her clothing off, running his hands over her body, pausing to pinch her already hard nipples. Moira shivered and moaned at Charles' touch.

"Charles," Moira finally said when she could catch her breath. She stared weakly at the ceiling wondering how she could have let this spiral so far out of her control.

"Hush," Charles replied, hastily shedding his clothes. He pushed her thighs apart and prepared to pull her back into his lap. Charles glanced once up at her, giving her a teasing lick. Moira moaned ever louder, her lust spiraling again. He gave her a salacious grin, equal parts dangerous and loving before he pulled her down and he thrust himself harshly into her.

"Oh, god!" Moira said withering around Charles' hard cock. Charles grunted smiling to himself, he loved making Moira senseless each and every time they made love (_fucked)_. She hardly felt Charles' mind enter her own as he looped her feelings between the two of them, giving Charles more pleasure than he cared to admit. Moira began moving against Charles' body trying desperately to get more out of him; she threw her head back as she screamed once more. Charles wedged his hand between the two of them and brushed her clit, making her moan and shake even more. "Oh, god. Charles, harder! I need it – ugh – harder!"

"That's it, Moira. Give me more," Charles said his thrusting becoming more and more violent. He was angry – angry at himself for using Moira like this and angry at Erik Lehnsherr for reducing him to this state. Charles bit and suckled her neck as Moira ground herself harder and faster against Charles. His hands clenched her hips, bringing more bruises to the surface of her far too pale and delicate skin. "Fuck, Moira."

"Charles, Charles, Charles, oh god, Charles," Moira said over and over again. Her hands were clutching his sweat soaked hair.

"Ah! That's it. Harder, Moira. Harder," Charles commanded her. The loop between them was almost too much for Charles to bear. "Fuck, Moira. Fuck me harder. I want you to come hard. I want to come inside you. That's it. Oh, god," Charles said and finally screamed his release into her body and mind. Moira orgasmed a second time, harder than the first and she fell into a heap on Charles, eyes slipping shut. She dimly heard Charles chuckle weakly and caressed and back. _(Oh, Moira. What are we going to do?)_

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><p><em>Reviews are nice.<em>


	14. Chapter 14

_Time is a toy._

_These characters are not mine._

_Hoodoo is my beta. :)_

_Thanks for sticking with me._

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><p><em>Present Day 1962 – Langley, Virginia<em>

Erik was now never too far from either Moira or Charles, whether they knew it or not. He felt compelled to protect _both_ Charles and Moira…and he had no idea why. To be sure, he still distrusted Moira, but from his almost weekly surveillance of her home, Erik could tell that she was not traveling to Westchester to _be_with Charles.

And Charles was not traveling to Langley, Virginia to _be_with Moira.

So, what the hell went on between Charles and Moira?

_Mid 1962 – Westchester, New York_

Charles finally found Scott Summers. He was in an orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska.

"Omaha, Nebraska? Why the fuck would he be placed there?" Alex said once he was told the news.

"Language, Alex, language," Charles told him mildly.

Alex rolled his eyes and said again, "Why would they place him in Omaha, Nebraska? We crashed in Alaska, not Nebraska."

Charles stayed silent for a moment, trying to assess the situation. There was something definitely going on with the orphanage in Omaha - when he tried to peek into the mind of the orphanage director, he found that he could not. This was definitely a cause for apprehension and pause. Charles knew that the young men trusted him with their lives. He did not want to give them a reason to start mistrusting him, but how much should he tell them?

In the end, Charles decided to tell Alex everything he knew.

"I believe that your brother might be in terrible danger," Charles began, his hands steepled under his chin.

"Then what the fuck are we doing here? We need to rescue him!" Alex said, beginning to stand.

"Calm yourself, Alex. It's not as easy as that…"

_Charles feels his mind flying over several thousand miles, searching, searching, searching for a young man with a distinct yet familiar brain pattern. He has not found him in Alaska, which was his first guess. He has not found them surrounding the area where Alex was found. Charles almost gives up for the day, when he senses a particularly bright sensation coming from the Midwest. _

_He zooms in close and begins to search the area for the sensation. Charles suddenly feels a sharp pain in his head and almost rips the Cerebro's helmet off. Charles does not realize that he has growled until Hank's voice pops into his head._

_"Professor? Are you okay?"_

_"I'm fine, Hank," Charles states trying to breath normally. "Give me a minute."_

_"Certainly."_

_Charles refocuses his attention and begins to do a mind sweep of the building that he finds his consciousness in. Blank slate grey walls. Bland food. Beds set up side by side by side. No privacy. No joy. No happiness. Fear. Terror. Guilt. Over and over again. Charles' jaw sets into a hard line. This is an orphanage and it might as well have come straight from the nineteenth century. His hands are clenched into fists. Charles jumps from one bright consciousness to another until he finds the one he has been searching for. _

_Scott's eyes are closed, but the fear is completely evident in the terrorized thoughts and rapid heartbeat. Charles can smell the urine staining his clothing and the pain coming from various places on his body. Scott wants to cry but is trying very hard not to. There's no knowing what these people will do to him._

_Charles feels hands roughly pull the boy up into a standing position and is forcing him to walk into another room. He is shoved down into another seat. The blindfold that was binding his eyes shut was ripped from his eyes. Scott tried not to squint in the sudden light._

_"So, Mr. Summers, will you not steal food again?" asks an unfriendly voice._

_Scott really wants to respond back to the director, but a voice in his head suddenly tells him not to. __**No, Scott. Don't say it. We'll get you out, I promise.**_

_"No Sir. I won't steal food again," Scott says through gritted teeth. He knows; he knows that this man is doing the children wrong. He knows that the director is keeping basic necessities away from the children. And, mostly Scott knows, that this man is doing terrible, terrible things to the others in the orphanage. _

_The director nods at Scott and he is again roughly pulled up from the seat and escorted back to his room. Scott shakes off the hands of the other person and lies down on his head. _

_**Are you there?**_

_**Yes, Scott, I am here. **_

_**Who are you?**_

_**Someone who will get you out soon.**_

_**What about the others?**_

_Charles is silent here. He had not planned on rescuing other children – just Scott._

_**Sir? **_

_**Yes, Scott? **_

_**What about the others?**_

_**Do you have a plan?**_

_**Actually, yes I do. **__And Scott proceeded to tell Charles about his plans._

Alex could only stand there as the Professor proceeded to tell him of Scott's plans.

"How could that possibly be a good idea?" Alex finally said. "Are we hiding or not?"

The Professor sighed. "We're doing a bit of both actually. This…man is conducting experiments on the children in the orphanage – both mutant and human alike and the authorities have either ignored the situation or have chosen to remain ignorant. This must be rectified," Charles said. Alex sighed. He agreed, but he wanted to get Scott out first. Charles smiled thinly at him. "You do realize that this whole plan is Scott's idea, yes?"

Alex's mouth dropped open. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yes, unfortunately, I am," Charles said. "I can't turn my back on this, you know that Alex."  
>Alex only sighed again. "I don't like that we're busting out my brother at the same time that we're taking down bad guys….especially since we're so low on <em>manpower<em>."

Charles smiled. "Sometimes, it's helpful to have the CIA in our back pocket, yes?"

Alex suddenly smiled.

_Present day 1962 – Langley, Virginia_

Now, that Erik had a taste of how _camaraderie_worked, Erik needed someone to talk to. He had summarily dismissed everyone that he could have considered a colleague and the one person he wanted to talk to probably would not want to see him much less talk to him. He even considered marching back to Moira's place just to talk to her. But he doubted very much that Moira would want to talk to him either.

So, Erik Lehnsherr had taken to staking out both Moira and Charles. Instead of sketching people's faces, Erik drew schematics of Moira's and Charles' homes, this was admittedly more difficult to do with Charles' mansion, but Erik did the best that he could. Moira's home was laid out as such: basement with laundry facilities, storage and a storm door (metallic, of course, something Erik could easily manipulate); first floor with a foyer, closets, powder room, living room, dining room and kitchen (the front door, which he obviously familiar with) and the back door (something that would have be closely watched); the second floor with Moira's bedroom, several more closets, an extra bathroom and two spare bedrooms; and finally the third floor (_This can't be all paid for by the CIA. Money has to come from somewhere in her family.)_that essentially served as the attic, with space for an office and another (unused) bathroom. It gave Erik comfort that only he could easily slip into Moira's apartment without notice. And strangely, it gave Erik comfort that Moira was obviously still very, very cautious –whether her fear came from the CIA or from him, Erik could not tell.

Erik was very much aware of how _extremely ludicrous _this all was, but if he were truthful with himself, Erik Lehnsherr would have to admit that he was a very, very lonely man.

Once or twice, Erik had almost been found out by Moira, herself. Erik had been too careless of late, distracted beyond belief from Trask's visit and his encounter with Moira herself. The first time he was almost found out by Moira happened almost two weeks after they had slept together. He was carelessly standing out in the open sitting on the steps of the apartment across the street from Moira's, instead of in between the two buildings in the shadows, when Moira stepped out of her house. Upon seeing Moira and realizing where he was sitting, Erik dove behind the two garbage bins and crawled into the shadows of the building – hopefully safe from Moira's eyes.

"Erik?" Moira called out. "Erik?" He heard her footsteps coming to where he was hiding. Erik had to run out of his hiding place as fast as he could. Later on, when he was safely ensconced in his hideout not too far away, Erik ran a hand through his hair and wondered (again) how he arrived at this point in his life; how he had taken to protecting a _human_woman.

It was crazy. It was incomprehensible. It was the actions of someone who _cared._

Erik pulled out the bullet that had pierced Charles' spine and using his powers floated it above his hand and in-between his fingers. He paid little attention to the tears that seemed to come out of nowhere from his eyes.

The second time Erik was almost caught by Moira, Erik began to think that maybe he _wanted_to be caught. He was lonely after all, a feeling that was completely foreign concept to him. He could hear Moira's voice calling out to him with a hint of what? Need? Pleading? No, Erik shook his head. That could not be what he had heard in her voice.

He pulled out the drawing her had made of her face and stared at it silently, thinking.

"I believe we're being watched Professor," Hank said to Charles one day. Hank had taken to coming into Charles' study in the mornings just to keep him company. They often said nothing, opting instead, to just look out the window. Hank never commented that they both ended up looking at the large satellite dish in the distance.

"Oh? Have you seen who might be watching us?" Charles said casually. He began to send his consciousness out into the surrounding area but could find nothing alarming.

Hank turned to look at the Professor with an unreadable look on his face. "You know damn well who could be watching us," Hank said.

"Do you think he's working alone or are Shaw's followers with him," Charles said stiffly. Neither Hank nor Charles would ever mention Erik by name.

"I think he's working on his own," came Hank's response. Charles turned to look at the young scientist. He found Hank had turned back to the window and was again watching the scene outside. Alex and Sean were sitting on the lawn reading the assigned material that Charles gave them the other week.

"Do Alex and Sean know?" Charles finally asked, the silence wearing thin on him.

"No, not yet," Hank said, still looking at the satellite dish. "I wasn't going to tell them anything until I talked with you," he said. Hank lapsed back into silence, his eyes scanning the horizon for anything out of the ordinary.

"What do you think we should do?" Charles asked suddenly nervous and angry at the same time.

"I think we should kill him," Hank said stiffly. He had not turned to look at Charles.

"Perhaps, a little extreme, don't you think?" Charles replied, his anger winning out over his nerves.

"Was killing Shaw and willing to kill a bunch of faceless and nameless people a little extreme?" Hank shot back.

Charles said nothing, his anger overtaking all sensible thought.

It was a while before Hank finally broke. "Charles?"

"Say nothing. I'll try to talk to him," Charles said gritting his teeth.

"I'll have your back," Hank said.

Charles shook his head vehemently. "No."

"Yes," Hank said just as vehemently.

"No," Charles said feeling a headache coming on.

"Yes," Hank said again. "Look what happened the last time he was with us! He fucking paralyzed you. Did you forget that? This," Hank said gesturing to Charles' wheelchair, "was not genetics. It was not an outside 'act of god.' And although it was done unintentionally, Lehnsherr did it without thought as to what might happen in consequence. He killed Shaw, as justifiable it might be, plus, he was (and perhaps still might be) willing to kill anyone who does not think the way that he does. Charles, I know you have feelings for him. No, I know you _love_ him, but do not think of a second that he would not turn against you if he thought you didn't have the same ideologies," Hank spat out. His anger was clearly evident on his face and body. Hank shook from the emotion that he felt. "Do not ask me to stand by while you try and _reason_with a madman. Do not ask this of me."

Charles nodded once and lapsed into a tense silence.

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><p><em>Reviews are nice.<em>


	15. Chapter 15

_Bear with me. This chapter is about 7,000 words. The most I've written for this arc. I know you're not going to like this next part that I'm about to write, but in all seriousness, I think this is going to be broken up into three pieces. This particular arc is about a third to half-way through. _

_I don't know. _

_Anyway, time is my plaything._

_The characters are not mine._

_Shit gets real. _

_This is your last warning._

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><p><em>Present day 1963 - Langley, Virginia<em>

Moira had not felt well in weeks (_In months, actually)_. She felt nauseous, vomiting at what seemed like the most inappropriate times. She felt tired constantly and just generally _moody._Family, friends and colleagues commented on Moira's recent shift in behavior. But after a rather shocking outburst followed by a hysterical crying jag, no one dared ask Moira about her behavior.

She spent the holidays alone thinking about Charles and Erik and what happened. She took to staring out the window trying to catch a glimpse of the person she knew was still watching her. Moira passed a hand over her stomach unconsciously.

Moira refused, absolutely refused to acknowledge what it could possibly signify.

But the proof was staring her in the face. Or rather in the reflection of her mirror.

She stared numbly at herself and wondered how she got to this point in her life.

Moira stepped out of her apartment, letter of resignation in her hand. She could not deny the truth anymore. In a few short months, Moira would have been forced out of the CIA anyway. There was no way she could be a field agent in her impending condition and there was no way that Moira MacTaggert would willingly take a desk job while everyone around her gossiped like old housewives.

What Moira did not expect was to find outside her door was a glimpse of Erik Lehnsherr lurking in the alley across the street from her house. Moira thought she had glimpsed him a few times after that night, but she chalked it up to wishful thinking. She thought she was done with Lehnsherr after finding the hastily scribbled letter stuffed unceremoniously in her mailbox. But no, it turned out that she was not.

Moira suddenly snapped and began to chase after Lehnsherr across the street. She had a thing or two tell that mad German. What Moira did not see, however, the car.

_Mid 1962 - Westchester, New York_

Charles put Cerebro's helmet on again. He glanced at Hank and Alex sitting in the monitor room and gave them a small, but reassuring smile. Alex smiled back weakly, while Hank did not give him a reaction at all. Charles had a feeling that Hank knew what was happening between Moira and himself. (_I'll have to speak to him about it later on.)_Charles nodded once signaling to Hank to turn on the massive machine.

Bright lights filled his vision as the smooth, metallic walls of Cerebro was replaced by the cloudy whiteness that came when using Cerebro. Charles felt like he was flying – he always felt like he was flying - as he cast about searching for other mutants. But this time, Charles Xavier was looking for a specific mutant. He ignored all the multiplying bright shiny lights that represented the number of mutants across the country and went straight to Omaha, Nebraska.

**Scott? **Charles easily found him again. He had specifically told Scott to keep an open mind and to be on the look-out for possible exit strategies, bits of useful information and most of all to try and keep himself in line. Charles was pleased to see that Scott Summers had taken his suggestions seriously. Scott had not been furthered abused, but Charles could feel the powerful migraine that consumed Scott's head.

**Sir? **

**Are you alright, son?**

**For now. **Scott tried not to groan while talking to this mysterious stranger in his head.

**Have you found anything useful?**

**I have. **Charles noticed Scott's hesitation.

**What is it? **Charles did a quick mental scan of Scott's surroundings.

**We need to exchange information.**

Charles chuckled sardonically, recognizing someone who could be dangerous. **Ah, I see. What exactly would you like to know?**

**How did you find me? **(_A simple enough question, _Charles thought, _but one fraught with danger. One misspoken thought and I might lose this opportunity forever.) _Charles was silent for a few minutes pondering his answer. He felt the need to be honest and forthright with the boy but at the same time, Charles felt the need to protect him (and Alex) as well. _(I'm no god,_ Charles thought bitterly, though he could dimly hear Erik laugh at Charles. _I don't have the right.)_

**Sir?**

**I'm still here Scott. **Charles sighed. Scott, he was sure, could hear his sigh. **My apologies. Your...your brother asked me to look for you. **A minute goes by without Scott saying anything. And then another minute. Charles started to fidget. He was never a still man - always moving, never ever quite still. It was something his mother always chided him for.

_"Charles, Honey, please keep still," his mother said to him one day. "I'm trying to make you look presentable for your new father." It was at these words, that Charles knew he would never be content to just sit still. _

_But just this once, Charles Xavier is still. Not for him, because he could never be still, but for his mother. Somewhere deep, deep down in his subconscious Charles knew that his mother would never be the same. So, he imprints this memory of her, brushing his unruly hair and straightening his clothes. _

**Sir? **The phantom pain in Charles' legs disappear. _(It's all in my head. It's all in my head. I can't feel a bloody thing below the waist.)_

**Yes, Scott?**

**Is he there with you?**

**Yes, Scott he is. **Charles can feel Scott begin to fidget, which only triggers his need for movement. He briefly, brightly curses Erik again. **Would you like to speak to him?**Charles sensed Scott's interest pique almost immediately. And try as he might, Scott could not help but broadcast his need to see Alex.

**Yes, Sir. **Scott finally said, his voice still shaky.

**All right, one moment please. **Charles shifted his consciousness slightly towards the young man in the room next to Hank. **Alex? Could you please come in here? **

Alex was briefly taken aback but quickly composed himself and entered the room with the Professor. He squared his shoulders and tried not to feel sick. "Yes, Professor?"

"I am in conversation with your brother," Charles began, "and he would like to speak with you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I don't know what to say."

Charles smiled as gently as he could. "I'm sure he doesn't know what to say either."

Alex nodded, but did not return Charles' smile. He took a deep breath. "Okay, what do I need to do?"

"Do I have permission?" Charles asked simply.

"What? Oh, right. Yeah. Um, come on in?" Alex said, feeling terribly, terribly foolish.

**It's alright, Alex. Everyone feels a little foolish.**

Alex gasped. **Oh, my god. **

Charles laughed. **It is amazing isn't it?**

Alex could only nod.

**Okay, I'm going to attempt to link the three of us, okay?**

**Okay. **Alex could only nod, still feeling foolish and completely out of place. He watched as the Professor had some sort of side mental conversation with his brother. _(My brother! What am I going to say to him? What if he doesn't like me? What if I don't like him? Oh, god.) _The Professor had an eerie, almost uncanny air about him whenever he had these mental conversations with people. It was like he was here, but not; able to occupy two spaces at the same time. It made Alex very much uneasy...but this was something he would never tell the Professor about. (_Besides, the Professor probably already knew this.)_

**Alex? Are you ready?**

**As ready as I'll ever be. **He sent back.

Charles smiled and then all of sudden, Alex's perception just seemed to widen and expand. It went beyond time and space, he felt and Alex knew that he was still in Westchester, but Alex also knew for a fact that he was standing with the Professor and a young boy somewhere in the Midwest. Alex stared at the boy and the boy stared back at Alex. Alex had not seen Scott for so long, he almost did not recognize him. But there he was, the spitting image of his (_their)_long dead father.

**Why are you wearing red sunglasses? You look like Sean. **Alex blurted out when he saw the glasses on Scott's face.

**Who's Sean? **Scott shot back, seemingly unfazed by Alex's non sequitar.

**Oh, he's my friend here. I think you'll like him. He takes some getting used to but he's a nice guy. **

Scott didn't say anything for a minute, but seemed to study Alex with the utmost intensity that made Alex want to fidget.

**What do you do?**

**What do I do? **Alex blinked.

**Yes, what's your power?**

**Oh. Well, I shoot plasma rays out of my hands. **

**Plasma rays?**

**How does it work? **

Alex blinked. **I've never considered that before. I'm not too sure. But the Professor helped me control the blasts. **Alex had forgotten about the Professor until he mentioned him. He looked off to the side where Charles was standing (_Standing? Oh, right. Sub-consciousness.)_to find him looking off in another direction, trying to be discreet and not listen in on the Alex's conversation with his brother.

**Really? Can I see?**

Alex grinned. **I can't show you here. We are in...wait. Where are we exactly, Professor?**

**Hmmm? Oh, we're in, I think, the astral plane. **Charles looked more distracted than usual, more than living up to his persona of being absent minded. He was looking around with his hands out as if he was trying to feel for something.

**What? **Alex had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't going to understand what the Professor was going to say.

**Oh, the astral plane was, I suppose is really, a plane of existence that was theorized by many schools of thought - the classical and medieval being two of them. It's not entirely understood, mainly because no one had ever **_**seen**_** it...well, except for us, of course.**

**I have no idea what you just said. **Scott said bluntly.

Alex laughed and the Professor had the grace to look embarrassed.

**Well, yes. I'm not entirely sure I understand it either. **The Professor focused his attention back to the two young men. But before he could say anything, Scott started screaming in pain and withered to the ground.

_Present day 1963 - Atlanta, Georgia_

Moira drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Who's the father, do you think?"

"It has to be Lensherr."

"You don't think it could be Xavier?"

"No, I don't think so."

She tried moving her arms and legs and found that she could not.

"She's moving. Better increase her sedatives."

"She's pregnant, you fucking moron. You don't want to lose the baby, do you?"

"No, I don't. But I don't want her hearing us."

"Relax, dip shit. MacTaggert won't hear us."

Moira felt the IV in her arm turn cool as another drug was slowly pushed into her system. She wanted to scream for help, but knew that no one would be able to hear her.

She dreamed of baby with green eyes who spoke nonsense to her.

Erik did his best of keep track of the car that took Moira. He did not want to hurt Moira and did not use his power to keep the car from escaping. He cursed himself again and again for getting too close to someone (_especially someone who was human_) and then feeling obligated to having to rescue Moira.

They were going to have words when he finished rescuing her. And maybe, just maybe this time, he would finish the job and kill Moira. (_You'll never do that, Erik.)_The next few days, Erik trailed after the car to a nondescript building in Atlanta, Georgia. He cased the building from a distance and pondered quickly what he was going to do to rescue Moira. So far he had observed no one of importance entering or exiting the building until the third day when a very familiar man entered.

Erik's stomach dropped. It finally clicked into place. Bolivar Trask was a world renowned anthropologist who had recently published a widely read article regarding wiping out the "mutant menace." _(What the fuck does he want with Moira?_) Erik debated several times to ask Charles for help before coming to the conclusion that he didn't want to endanger Charles' life as well.

Erik's jaw set as he formulated his plan. His fingers absently grazed over Shaw's helmet.

Moira felt pain. Too much pain. She felt like a force was ripping something very important and vital out of her body. Her eyes flew open as she screamed.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"I don't know. All of a sudden she started screaming."

"Well, figure out what's going on and fucking fix it!"

"Yes, sir."

Moira drifted in and out of a painful consciousness. She saw images that she could not piece together, that had no basis. _(I've never been to such a large house before! Why is that woman blue? What happened to Charles? Where's Erik? Did we stop Shaw? Why can't I move? Oh, god. What's happening to me?)_

Moira dreamed.

_In her dreams, she dreams of a sunny beach. But there's something wrong. Something, terribly, terribly wrong. People are screaming. Adrenaline is running high. People are dead. She glances up in the sky and sees the missiles coming down on their head. She remembers choking. Choking. Someone is choking her but he is standing five feet away from her. Someone is in his lap. Someone is hurt. She's hurt someone dear to her. Oh, my god. She shot Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. _

_Moira blacks out after this memory is played out in her head. _

Charles looked up from his pile of peer reviewed papers when he hears -

_Charles. Charles. Charles_. -

play in his head. He concentrated on the voice and sent back -

_Moira? Moira, are you all right?_

But nothing came back to him and Moira's ghostly little voice vanished. Charles' eyebrow drew together in slight annoyance, he pushed himself away from the desk and mentally called out to Hank.

_Hank, could you please get Cerebro ready?_

_Of course._

_Mid 1962 - Westchester, New York_

**Scott! **Charles felt the pain rip through his mind but focused on Scott who was now laying prone on the ground. Charles focused hard, ignoring Alex's cries, and took control of Scott's body. He found that Scott's eyes were still open and that he was staring at the cold hard cement blinking. There was a dull pain in the back of his head as if someone had hit him. _(Someone had hit him. And that someone was still behind him.) _Charles focused on Scott's other senses, he was trying to listen to his assailant behind him.

"That should knock him out," said a deep voice.

Scott moaned in pain. **Scott! You must keep quiet. I'm trying to help you. **Scott mentally nodded and faked passing out.

"There. Now, he's out," another voice said. "I hope you didn't permanently damage him."

"Who the fuck cares. He's just another fucking kid."

"Yeah, the Director cares. And if the Director fucking cares then we should fucking care too."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Hey, we're paid to do this. Now, shut the fuck up, pick up the brat and let's move him into basement."

"What's so special about this brat that we gotta move him all the way down there?"

"I don't know. But the Director says that he's safer down there. Whatever that means."

The other man did not respond**. Scott, whatever you do, keep your eyes open. It'll help us later.**

**Okay. **It was not hard to miss the fear in Scott's mental voice.

**I promise you, Scott. We are coming for you.**

Scott did not say anything; he just kept his eyes and ears open as he was carried downstairs to the basement. He could smell the dampness as other unpleasant smells assailed his nose. Then he started to hear the pleading voices as they entered the basement.

"Please let us out!"

"I'm so hungry!"

"When can I go home?"

"I don't like it here."

As the basement door closed, the telepathic connection between Charles and Scott was severed.

"Fuck!" Charles screamed. He looked at Alex who was pale and shaking. "Get the others and meet me in the library." Alex nodded and ran out of Cerebro.

_Present Day 1963 - Atlanta, Georgia_

Erik briefly pondered again, calling Charles for help, but he did not entirely know if Charles would help him or not. _(Besides, _he thought, _I don't think Moira has time left.)_ Erik grimaced. Once he rescued Moira MacTaggert, Erik Lehnsherr was going to get as far away from her as possible. _(I should have left her alone. I shouldn't have focused so much of my attention on her. I should have killed her when I had the chance.) _But Erik knew in his heart that he could not kill Moira MacTaggert. There was no way he could do that now. Charles Xavier had changed him, Erik did not know when, but he did. _(Damn him.)_

Erik did a quick scan of the building again and levitated himself using the metal on his body to the roof. He was dressed in his customary black with Shaw's helmet on his head. He walked cautiously to the door on the roof and listened carefully before using his power to open it. It was pitch dark and immediately made Erik nervous. He squashed his misgivings and continued down the stairs, pausing every now and again to hear for anything unusual. Erik got to the end of the stairwell and cautiously looked out the window before opening it and stepping into the stark white hallway.

No one was in present, which only made Erik even more nervous. The hall was lined with relatively unmarked and closed doors. The only thing that distinguished each room was the plain number that sat to the left of each door. Erik badly wished that he had Charles' telepathy at his disposal. He wasn't going to find Moira without opening each and every door. Walking to the first closed door he saw, he tested the handle and found that it was unlocked. Erik straightened his shoulders and walked in like he owned the place. Luckily, no one was inside. Instead, he found himself in a large file room filled with nothing but files. Stepping inside, he closed and locked the door behind him.

Erik pulled the closest file from the shelf and flipped through it. Names and other distinguishing facts in the file had been meticulously blacked out. He closed the file and finally noticed that it had been marked deceased. Erik sucked in his breath and pulled out another file. It was marked the same on the inside and outside. Erik's panic was beginning to rise. He walked to another shelf and pulled a random file out. It was marked the same. In a fit of unease and , Erik pulled off his helmet and was instantly assailed by Charles' voice.

**Erik! **Erik could practically hear the panic in Charles' voice. And while Erik felt his heart leap in, he had to focus on finding Moira.

**Charles? Oh, fuck. I did not mean to do that.**

**I gathered not. What the hell are you doing in Atlanta, Georgia?**

**How do you do know where I am?**

**I'm in Cerebro, you giant git. Get the fuck out of there! **Erik could almost see Charles fidgeting.

**I can't! I have to find Moira!**

**What? What do you mean 'you have to find Moira'? **Erik heard the edge in Charles' voice and briefly wondered where this came from. He pushed it out of his mind.

Now, Erik knew that Charles was getting angry. But now that he had his attention, Erik was going to use whatever resources he was given to get the job done. **Charles! They took her! **

**Who are they? **That same edge sharpened to a point. Erik shivered and tried to keep the feeling out of his mental voice.

**I don't know.**

**Erik, listen to me, we will talk about this later, but you are in grave danger. I don't feel Moira in that building at all. **Charles paused. **All right, that's not true. There's a strange telepathic black hole in the basement of the building, much like what Shaw had on his submarine. If, **_**if **_**Moira is here, then she might be hidden in that room in the basement. **Erik then felt a strange doubling sensation. He was not only in Atlanta, but in Westchester beside Charles Xavier.

**You rebuilt Cerebro. **Erik was struck dumb by the feat. Apparently, they had recreated Cerebro to be almost five times as big as the original.

**What? **Charles was clearly annoyed.

**Nevermind. The basement you said?**

**Yes. **

**Is there anyone else in the building? **

**Yes, but if you take care you won't run into them. I can't account for anyone in the basement however.**

**That's fine. I'll take my chances with them. How many people can you sense?**

**About half a dozen. They are all milling around in the cafeteria on the first floor. Be careful of cameras. I'm sure there are cameras around. **Charles paused again, as he stretched his consciousness around the place again. **Erik, is this a government building? **

**I don't know. I didn't have the **_**time**_** to read the placard on the front of the building.**

**Like you read mine?**

**What? **_(He knew I was there...how?)_

**Nevermind. That's for another time. I know you won't leave well enough alone. So, leave the fucking helmet off and I'll watch your back as best I can from here.**

**Thank you.**

**Shut up and just do as I say.**

_Mid 1962 - Westchester, New York_

"We have a situation in Omaha, Nebraska. Alex's brother, Scott, might be in more trouble than I thought," Charles said without much preamble. Around the kitchen table sat Alex, Sean, Hank and Moira. _(It's not much, but it's what we have to work with.) _"We will have to go in fast and hard, take them by surprise and free Scott."

"What's the situation?" Moira asked, her CIA-training coming into play.

"Scott Summers is being held at an orphanage in Omaha. I have reason to believe that there is something deeply sinister going on at this place. I get the feeling that the people in charge are doing experiments on the children there." Gasps came from around the kitchen table. "Until a few minutes ago, I was in contact with Scott until he was assaulted from behind. I do not know how many people we are dealing with or what they might have. Moira," Charles said looking at her, "do you have any contacts in Omaha?"

"Yes, I'll get right on that," she said and got up to make a few phone calls.

"The rest of you, I need you to suite up. We leave in two hours," Charles said crisply. Hank waited until the other two left.

"What do you think is going on over there?" Hank rumbled quietly.

"I don't know. But I intend to stop it," he said.

"Okay, we have a few leads about that orphanage," Moira said. She had a piece of paper in her hand which she read off from. "The orphanage is run by a corporation called Vigilance Enterprises."

"Why would a corporation run an orphanage?" Hank mused.

"The FBI has that same question," Moira said. "The head of Vigilance Enterprises is someone by the name of Boliviar Trask."

"Wait, what?" Charles said, stopping Moira.

"It's run by someone name Boliviar Trask," Moira said again. "That name is familiar."

"Trask wrote that article about wiping out the so-called "mutant menace," Hank rumbled.

"Oh, my god," Moira said. "And Scott is a mutant isn't he?"

"Yes," Charles said.

"Jesus," Moira said running a hand through her hair.

_Present day 1963 - Atlanta, Georgia_

Moira dreamed of the baby again. _(Is he...my baby?)_He swirled around in the air, seemingly on his own, leaving an energy trail in his wake. He seemed uninterested in her when Moira called to the baby.

Charles had managed to maneuver Erik through the hospital lab -

**It is what it is, Erik. I cannot help that.**

**They do...experiments here?**

**Yes.**

**On mutants?**

**And humans. **Erik's jaw clenched harder.

**I cannot vouch for the space in the basement, but currently there are no people being currently experimented on in the floors above.**

**Good to know. **Erik's eyes were barely slits. His anger was at a boiling point. **I will burn this place to the fucking ground. **

**I know.**

**And you won't stop me.**

**I know. **Erik almost stopped short but managed to continue on.

**You won't stop me?**

**No. **

**Why?**

**This place is connected to another place where we've recently rescued several other mutants. Among them, Scott Summers, Alex's younger brother. They were...in bad shape. The man who owns this building and the orphanage in the Midwest is a dangerous, dangerous man. His aim is to wipe the mutant race off the face of the Earth. But that's not his only motivation. **

Erik wanted to hurt somebody. Anybody. **What is his other motivation?**

**I believe his son is a mutant. **

Erik had no reply to this.

**Erik, you are nearing the basement. This is a telepathic black hole. Find a crack anything, widen it so I can help you. **Erik nodded. **Erik, be careful.**..**I don't know what you're facing.**

Erik felt his heart soar momentarily. _(Focus. Fixate on that later.) _Erik cautiously opened the basement door and immediately heard the cries of terror. It took all his strength not to revert back to his younger self; back to the camps; back to when he lost his parents.

**Focus, Erik, focus. **Charles was still in his head and Erik was grateful.

**I'm going to have to close the door soon. **

**I understand. Good luck.**

**Thank you. **And with that Erik softly closed the door behind him and Charles' voice disappeared from his head. Erik concentrated all his senses and tried to discern exactly how many people were in the basement. He walked softly and silently down the last steps. His breathing was shallow and he could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest.

The hall was dimly lit and was left unadorned. Again, closed doors lined the hallway - about a dozen in all. Erik examined the doors, trying to guess which one held Moira. He came to the first closed door and listened in carefully. Erik could hear someone breathing behind the door, but no one else. He had a strange feeling about the person behind that door. Erik's senses tingled strangely. There was metal on the person behind the door...but there was something...off about it.

As if the metal was _embedded _within the person behind the door.

For the time being, Erik left the door alone.

The second door he came to, he opened cautiously and found no one in. Erik slipped in and surveyed the room, trying to figure out his next steps. He encountered four patient files. He loathed to open a file in fear of seeing the word deceased. Suddenly, he tensed. He heard the door open and was left slightly ajar.

**Erik!**

**Who just came in?**

**Must be the janitor. **Charles paused a second. **All right. He's asleep and will stay asleep for the rest of the night. There are six other people in the basement, besides the janitor. Two are lab technicians of some sort, which I have now conveniently put to sleep as well. Be careful though, there are still alarms and other means of keeping these people prisoners still at work.**

Erik nodded again, not bothering to form a reply.

**The four people are located next to each other. Two are mutants and two are not. And one of them is Moira. **Erik could hear Charles' sharp intake of breath. **Oh, my god. What did you do?**

_Mid 1962 - Omaha, Nebraska_

The team made their way to Omaha, Nebraska on the newly rebuilt Blackbird. Once again, Hank took the controls as Charles, Moira, Sean and Alex sat rigidly in the back of the plane. Beside them, lay an assortment of items that might be necessary to rescue Scott. They were dressed in their uniforms - save Charles who was going to be stationed in the Blackbird with a mini-version of Cerebro.

Moira had alerted the local authorities about the orphanage, but without evidence they were powerless to act on Moira's tip. She sighed wondering what good being a CIA agent was if no one believed her.

**At least you tried, my dear. **Charles was looking straight at her with a small smile on his face.

**I suppose that's something. **Moira would not meet his eyes. Shame filled her.

**We still have unfinished business, I believe. **Moira could hear Charles' soft sigh. She knew that he wanted to say something more to her.

**Yes, we do. But that will have to wait until we get back from Omaha. **Moira finally managed to say and looked up at him, brown eyes meeting blue.

**Indeed. **Charles looked away first.

The rest of the flight was spent in silence from the team. They had not been in the Blackbird since Cuba and they tried not to think about what happened the last time they were together on the Blackbird and of who they lost.

It was still fresh in their minds.

_Present Day 1963 - Atlanta, Georgia_

**Erik! What did you do?**

**What are you talking about?**

**To Moira!**

**What about Moira? I'm trying to fucking rescue her. What we have to say to each other will have to wait. **Erik could feel Charles' jaw set.

**We **_**will**_** talk about this later. Moira is in the last room on the left. She has been...sedated. Please be careful with her. The other three are in various states of distress. **

**I don't care about the other three.**

**You **_**will**_** take them with you. Two of them are **_**children,**_** Erik. The Blackbird will be waiting for you nearby when you are ready. **Erik did not know what to say about Charles' insistence but silently agreed. **The third is Logan. I am not sure if he wants to kill you or trust you more.**

**How refreshing.**

**Indeed. Now, get to work. **Erik bristled, but said nothing. He opened Moira's door first and saw her hooked up to at least a dozen machines. She laid in a hospital bed, unconscious.

**What are all these for?**

**They are mainly to monitor the baby.**

**What baby?**

**Your baby, apparently. **Erik did not miss the way Charles gritted this out. He looked at Moira again and saw her stomach.

**Oh, my god. **

**How long have you been sleeping with her?**

**It was only once. Three months ago.**

**About the time you came to the Mansion. **Statement, not fact.

**Yes.**

**Unhook her from the IV's. The one on her right is filled with the sedative, please undo that one first. **Erik went to unhook her, when he heard another voice coming from the first floor.

"Hey, man. Are you alright?"

**I thought you had everyone pinpointed.**

**I did. This one just came into the building. **

**Make him go away. **Charles went silent as he refocused his consciousness on the man making him forget where he was and what he was doing.

**Done. You might want to unlock Logan's door. He might be wiling to watch your back while you rouse Moira. **Erik did as he was told, gritting his teeth the entire time.

Erik wrenched open the door with Logan inside. The light from the hallway barely filled the room.

"You better be here to rescue me, Bub, or your dead," a low feral voice said. Logan nodded and stepped out into the hallway. He was a short hairy man who looked like he could easily kill a man without twice about it. Logan cracked his neck and flexed his hands and before Erik could blink, metal knives came out of his knuckles.

"Of a sort," Erik replied. "Stand guard while I get the others."

"What makes you think I'm gonna listen to you?"

"Because I just rescued your ass. And because I can manipulate the metal that's embedded in your body. Now, do as I say or I will throw you back into the room, lock it and leave you here."

Logan only grinned manically and did as he was told.

**He's familiar. **Charles dryly piped into his head.

**He told us to go fuck ourselves. **Charles had nothing to say about that.

**The other two are children, a boy and a girl. The girl's name is Kitty Pryde. And the boy is named Bobby Drake. **

**Interesting. How bad are they? **

**Bobby is worse off than Kitty. I suggest freeing her first and having her help with Bobby.**

Erik nodded and approached the door to Kitty's cell. He could hear someone crying very quietly in a corner. She was whispering quietly.

"Oh, please don't hurt me. Please, please, please. Don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you want. Please let me go."

The bottom dropped out of Erik's stomach. He felt himself be transported back to the concentration camps. He was fourteen again, scared out of his mind and cruelly ripped away from his parents. Shaw or Schmidt as he was calling himself those days was keeping him separate from the rest of the prisoners. The terror, the anguish, _the hollowness_that Erik felt threatened to sweep him away all over again.

**Erik. Concentrate. Calm your mind. Shaw is dead.**_** You **_**killed him. These people, in the here and now, **_**need you**_**. **

Erik swallowed thickly and called out to the frightened girl.

"I won't hurt you," he said, his voice cracking. "I came here to rescue you."

The girl - Kitty - immediately stopped her whispering.

"Truly?"

"Truly," Erik could feel his heart breaking all over again. How he badly wished for someone to have rescued him when he was younger. "There is a young boy in the room next door. You must free him. His name is Bobby."

Kitty stepped out of the shadows. She was emaciated, with large hollow looking eyes and mousy brown hair. She was dressed in a thin hospital gown and she shivered, hugging herself tightly. Kitty looked up at Erik and wordlessly thanked him.

He turned his attention back to Moira who was now moaning from the other room. Pushing he almost overwhelming fear down and concentrated on the task at hand. He stepped back into her cell, working quickly to unhook her from the various machines she was attached to.

Moira had dark circles under her eyes and her arms were bruised from the various needle pricks. Her eye lids fluttered open and at first she was unable to focus on anything staring up at the harsh ceiling lights. Finally, she realized that Erik was in the room and turning her head she watched him free her from the hell she was in.

"Erik," Moira croaked out. Her voice was dusty from disuse. "I'm so foggy. What happened to me? I'm so cold."

"Someone kidnapped you," Erik said softly. He was rubbing her arms trying to get the blood circulating through her body. "We have to get you out of here."

"We?"

**Yes, we. **Charles' voice popped into Erik's and Moira's heads.

**Charles.**

**Moira.**

"We need to leave. Can you walk?" Erik said harshly.

"I'm pregnant," Moira said softly.

"I can see that," Erik replied.

"He's yours," she said, eyes on the floor concentrating on making her legs work.

"I know," Erik said. "We need to leave."

"Um, sir?" Kitty asked from the doorway. "Mr. Logan said that we had to hurry. He could smell others coming."

"Smell others coming?"

"That's what he said," she replied.

Erik had no time for this. He picked up Moira in his arms and started walking towards the door. "Did you get Bobby?"

"Yes, sir," Kitty said.

"Please don't call me that," Erik muttered. Kitty and Bobby trailed behind them. He got to Logan at the foot of the stairs. "So, you smell them?"

"Yeah, about half a dozen people coming our way. I can fight my way out, but it looks like you have your hands full," he said eyeing Moira and the two kids behind them.

"Charles said that the Blackbird is ready for us," Erik said ignoring Logan's tone.

"Who the fuck is Charles?" Logan said, eyes narrowing even further.

**I am. **Charles replied into all of their heads. Logan growled. **Please do not argue with me. The Blackbird is ready to take you away from here. **While Logan did not hear the steel in Charles' voice, Erik did not miss it.

_(This was going to be interesting.)_

_Mid 1962 - Omaha, Nebraska_

They all waited in the Blackbird while the Professor donned the smaller version of Cerebro.

**Scott? Scott? Can you hear me? **Charles received nothing in return. He spread his consciousness out further into the building but strangely enough found no other living being there. He furrowed his brow in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Alex demanded, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

"I can't sense anyone else in the building," Charles said after a short time.

"They can't all be out," Hank rumbled.

"No, no they can't. There is a telepathic black hole, however, in the basement of the building...similar to what was in Shaw's submarine," Charles said musing out loud.

"Do you think any of Shaw's followers are there?" Moira asked. The underlying question was left unasked. _(Was Erik there?)_

"No. This is completely different. Trask has nothing to do with Shaw. Shaw would have killed Trask or vice versa. However, I think this is just as sinister as Shaw. Be on your guard. I'll guide you the best I can," Charles said.

"I'll stay here with the Professor," Hank said, preparing himself to be left behind.

"No, you are going with them," Charles countered.

"Then who's staying with you?" Sean said, eyebrows raised.

"No one," Charles replied. A flurry of protests broke out. "Silence! We do not have enough time to argue about who's staying here to babysit me," Charles looked sternly at each of them. "I am powerful enough to defend myself and will do if provoked. I hope, though, that it will not have to go that extreme. If anything happens stay where you are and remain there until I say so. Otherwise, use the cover of night, go. Go get Alex's brother."

Each team member nodded, glancing once at the Professor. Moira was the last to leave.

**Be careful, Love. **

**You too, Charles.**

They crept along the grounds, using the night and shadows as their cover. The stopped dead, every time one of them saw or heard something unusual. Gone were the yellow and black jumpsuits from Cuba, replaced with black, non-reflective suits that were supposedly tough enough to be bullet proof. Charles merely nodded when told the information. There was a suit for each of them - including Moira.

_"Are you all right, Moira?" Hank asked, noticing the expression on her face as she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat._

_"Perfectly fine, Hank. Thank you for asking," Moira responded softly._

_Somehow Hank knew not to press the issue. Charles wheeled himself beside her and took her hand, giving her a gentle kiss. Moira smiled and held his hand a little tighter. (Not perfect, but working on it.)_

**Moira.**

**Charles?**

**There's no one there.**

**No one? **

**Yes, absolutely no one. I can't say that there might be someone in the basement though.**

**Alright, we'll be careful.**

Moira signaled to the others and they stopped where they were standing and crouched waiting for orders from Moira. Moira crept over to the others and relayed what Charles had told her. Shocked rolled off their bodies as they tried in vain to school their expression. She watched the orphanage for any signs of a security but after a half hour nothing and no one caught her eye. Moira motioned for Alex to break into the building, but found the door knob twisted easily in his hand. With wide eyes he looked back at Moira. She nodded slightly and he pushed the door open. Hearing nothing inside, he signaled the others to follow him.

Once inside, Moira quietly closed the door and pulled the team back together. They surveyed the room they were in and tried not to think about what sort of hell the children in the orphanage were in. After another 30 minutes, they broke and started searching for the basement.

**Any help would be great, Charles.**

**I'm working on it. Okay, Banshee is closest to the basement door. **

Moira signaled the team over to Banshee. She drew her gun and reached for the door. From the other side, the team heard screams and gunshots followed by a sickening silence.

**Moira!**

She did not answer but quickly opened the door and raced down the stairs, quickly followed by the rest of the team. A horrific sight met them at the bottom of the stairs. Moira gasped. The bottom of the stairs opened up into a large plain room filled with gurneys, medical instruments and a line of bodies. Children's bodies. They were slumped face first onto the cold concrete floor of the basement, a small neat hole in the back of each of their heads.

"Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god," Moira heard someone say behind her. She did not know who it was who said it. Moira could not tear her eyes away from the massacre in front of her. _(They're children!) _

A movement to the left caught Moira's eye and standing there with a lost, maniacal look in his eye was a doctor, gun in hand. Behind him cowered a small boy. _(That can only be Scott Summers.)_

"They told me you were coming. I warned everyone and they all left! There's no one here left to save. No one! They were all freaks of natures. Something abhorrent. Something God hated. You can't have any of them! Especially not this one!" And with that the crazed doctor turned, gunned drawn and aimed it at Scott's head.

Without thinking, Moira leveled her gun and shot the doctor six times. She kept trying to fire her gun, until Sean lowered her arms. Tears were pouring down her face. All of their faces really. They stood there in stunned silence, unable to take in anything more than what they witnessed.

"Scott?" Alex finally said, approaching the younger boy.

He looked up at Alex. Scott's eyes were bandaged and something wet was leaking from behind the bandages. Something that looked an awful like blood. Alex gasped.

"Alex?" Scott's thin reedy voice asked. "I can't see you."

"Yeah, it's me, Buddy. I'm right here. I told you, we'd come to get you," Alex said trying to keep his voice steady.

"Dr. Stryker order Dr. Wilson to kill us but Dr. Wilson didn't want to kill us because we're kids and the Dr. Stryker started yelling at Dr. Wilson to just do it and then the stormed out taking these files with him and then - "

"Honey, Honey, stop," Moira said gently finally coming to her senses.

"Who's that?" Scott whispered. "Did she kill Dr. Wilson?"

"That's Miss Moira. And yes, she did," Alex said grateful for the presence of the others. "We need to go," he said. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you. I don't think you can see if we take these bandages off."

"They took out my eyes," Scott said matter of factly.

A collective gasp came from the group.

"I started having these headaches after I was hit in the head," Scott said.

"But that was just a few days ago!" Alex said, the fearing nearly engulfing him.

"I know. I'm sorry," Scott said, years beyond his age.

"It's not your fault," Alex whispered. "Not your fault."

"We need to get out of here," Hank said, his ears twitching.

"What's going on?" Moira asked.

"Sirens in the distance," Hank responded.

"Let's go," she said, voice hard.

"What about them?" Sean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"There's nothing we can do about them. We need to get out of here before the police find us," Moira said. "Let's go," she said softly.

In unison and silence they exited the basement and made their way back to the Blackbird.

They were almost there when they saw it surrounded by flashing lights.

* * *

><p><em>Whew! I did not expect that to be so long.<em>

_Reviews are nice._


	16. Chapter 16

_Nothing is mine. _

_I play with time. _

_Shit remains real. _

_I'm sorry for the delay. _

_Thanks to Hoodoo and moira-mactaggert for their awesome beta reading skills._

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><p>Erik, Logan, Moira, and the kids carefully stepped out of the basement and silently made their way to the exit. They stepped over the body of the man who had called down the stairs. He was slumped inelegantly against the wall, mouth hanging open.<p>

Moira still partially under the influence of the mysterious drug could barely focus on what was happening. Something nagged at the back her mind. Something _important_ but for the life of her, Moira MacTaggert could not _remember__what it was._Moira tried to drag her mind back to the present and ask Erik what it was that she could have have forgotten but before she did, Moira was interrupted.

"Is he dead?" Kitty asked the color further draining out of her face when she saw the man.

**No, **Charles said, his voice popping into her head. **Merely sleeping, my dear. **

Kitty gasped.

"Don't be afraid," Moira said softly. "He's our friend."

"Why isn't he here then?" Logan growled. Moira watched in fascination as claws - metal, it looked like - slowly slide out of his knuckles.

"Maybe it's because he's in a wheelchair," Erik snarled back at him. Moira flinched in Erik's arms a piece of memory drifted in her mind. Erik was vaguely surprised when he realized that Logan's entire skeleton was made from metal.

"I put him in that chair, didn't I?" Moira asked so quietly that Erik had to strain to hear her. The question of why she couldn't remember sprang into Erik's mind. But this was neither the time or the place. _All things in due time, my impatient little son, _his mother's voice whispered in his thoughts. Erik shivered involuntarily and pushed his mother's voice out of his head.

"_We _put him that chair," Erik snapped at her. Moira turned her head to look at Erik, her eyes large and dark and dewy with unshed tears. Erik was glad that he was not a telepath. He did not want to know what Moira was thinking.

"You can have this lovers' quarrel when we're safely out of here," Logan interjected. He then grunted when he felt the metal in his body begin to shift minutely.

"You will remain quiet unless you hear _or smell_something dangerous coming our way," Erik gritted out. Logan just shrugged his shoulders as he extended his claws further. "Kitty, what is your power?" Erik said changing the subject.

"I-I can phase through things," she said softly as if she wasn't sure of it.

"You can phase through solid objects?" Erik asked surprised. "Why didn't you just leave this place then?"

"They - they kept giving me drugs so I couldn't," she said, her voice quavering a bit. Kitty shivered and pulled the loose hospital gown closer to her.

"When was your last dose?"

"About a day ago, I think," she said. Experimentally, she reached her arm out and tried to phase through the wall. She pulled her arm back wincing. "It still hurts."

Erik nodded. "What about you, Bobby?"

Bobby looked up at Erik with large doe eyes. To anyone else, Bobby looked like he was deeply pondering the question, but in the harsh light of reality, Bobby was fading fast. His skin was pale and clammy; his breathing shallow. There was an unnatural quality in his eyes that terrified Erik. (_What was wrong with this boy?)_

Bobby opened his mouth to say something when he suddenly collapsed beside Kitty almost taking her down with him.

"Bobby!" Kitty cried out and caught him before he hit the floor forgetting about her own pain.

"We're gonna have to work fast, if we're gonna get out of here alive," Logan said roughly.

"Do you have any suggestions or are you going to just stand there and grunt at us?" Erik snapped back. "Kitty, I know you're in pain but can you support or carry him?"

"I can try," she said and picked him up. Kitty felt her muscles crying out. She had no idea how long she had been held captive. She took a deep breathe and took a tentative step forward stumbling a little. She was not sure if she could help Bobby move but this was a matter of survival. Kitty was sure she would never leave anyone behind. For Bobby's sake, she had to try.

Kitty nodded at Erik trying to keep the pain off her face. For the most part, Erik thought, Kitty did an admirable job.

"There's a car coming," Logan announced. His fist tightened, preparing to fight.

"You can smell a car?" Erik was skeptical of everything associated with Logan.

"No, I can hear them," Logan said sarcastically. Erik just rolled his eyes and wanted nothing more than to rip the metal out of Logan's body.

**Steady on, Erik.**

**He's not making this any easier.**

**No, but he is an ally of a sorts. **

**I want to push him out of the Blackbird to see if he lands on his feet.**

Charles didn't respond. Erik could feel him thinking hard.

**What's going on?**

**Shh, I'm concentrating. **After a few minutes, Charles' voiced popped back into all of their heads. **Move slowly, **he said. Charles' voice had an eerie, far off quality.

**What are you doing?**Erik asked in frustration.

**Hush, Erik. I have camouflaged your presence for the time being. **

"He can do that?" Logan asked, a little awed.

"He can now," Moira answered gritting her teeth. Erik raised an eyebrow at her but Moira did not elaborate. She closed her eyes, trying not to remember a painful memory.

_(We are all fucked, _Erik thought warily.)

**But time is of the essence. You will have to get to the Blackbird quickly. It is located in a nearby field. Hank will be there to take all of you away. This takes extreme amounts of concentration, so please forgive me if I do not respond. Now, go! **And with that, Charles cut the telepathic connection. Erik shivered involuntarily. He knew that Charles was more powerful than he let on, he just did not realize how _much _power he possessed.

"You have no idea," Moira muttered softly.

"What?" Erik blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean, what?" Moira shot back.

"I didn't say anything," Erik said, eyes suddenly narrowing.

"Of course you did," Moira snapped back.

"No, Miss, he didn't," Kitty said, breathing heavy noticing the tense conversation. Moira just sighed, the fight fleeing her tired body. She sagged in Erik's arms, resting her head against his chest. Moira hated feeling so helpless and silently raged.

Erik grunted and sent Kitty a quiet thank you.

"How are you holding up, Kitty?" Erik asked.

"I'm okay," Kitty said and reshifted Bobby in her arms. Logan stopped suddenly in front of them, his body tense. Everyone dropped quickly and quietly. Moira held her breath, feeling her heart rabbit in her chest. Erik's grip on her tightened every so slightly, whether it was as a gesture of comfort or as a warning, Moira could not tell. She felt completely and utterly useless, wanting nothing more than for Erik to set her down. But Moira knew that he would not. Moira could feel the weight of Erik's gaze on her. She did not meet his eyes.

Erik was boring holes through her, as if trying to make her speak.

Moira set her mouth in a thin line and hardened her facial expression, daring him.

_(You will keep still, Moira_._) _Erik knew that Moira was no mutant but that did not stop him from focusing his thoughts hard on Moira.

_(What's keeping me from moving, Erik?) _Her expression had not changed. Erik could hear the heat in her voice.

_(The fact that we might get killed, Moira.) _Erik swiftly answered.

_(You would love nothing more than to have me dead, Lehnsherr. I don't even know why you even bothered to come after me.) _Moira said nothing more, keeping her mind blank and blocking Erik out.  
>Erik's expression stilled, puzzling over something she said. And then his expression changed, shocked.<p>

"Moira," he said quietly and cautiously. "We just had that conversation in our heads."

"Bullshit," she hissed. "That's impossible."

"Apparently, not so impossible," Erik bit back. _(What exactly did they do to you in there?)_

_(I have no idea.) _Moira shut her eyes, trying not to think about what might have happened.

_Mid 1962_

Cautiously, the group approached the Blackbird, silent as death and night. Alex had taken his younger brother into his arms, carrying him after he stumbled and fell for the third time.

_"I can walk," Scott hissed._

_"No, you can't," Alex responded and picked up the struggling boy._

_"Put me down," Scott said._

_"No," came Moira's voice to Scott's left. "Havok is right. We need to move and move quickly. Your...sight has just been taken from you. This is not the time nor the place to experiment with feeling your way to the Blackbird," Moira said calmly and sternly. She was still reeling from what she'd seen in the basement. No matter how well she had been trained for this situation, actually pulling the trigger and actively ending someone's life was not how it was taught in the CIA. _

Everyone dropped, once again blending into the shadows waiting for some sort of signal. Moira furrowed her brow and tried to communicate with Charles.

**Charles, what is is going on?**

Moira received no answer. She waited five more minutes before trying again. **Charles? Can you hear me? What is going on? **Still Charles did not answer her and the police cars with their flashing lights did not move away from the Blackbird. Moira glanced over her shoulder and saw the first peeking light of the sunrise. Soon, they would all be bathed in the morning light, giving everything away. Something had to be done.

For the first time since Cuba, Moira found herself wishing that Erik Lehnsherr were here with them. He had proved more than capable in raising a submarine from the depths of the Caribbean Sea. Raising a few police cars and placing them _(No, throwing them)_somewhere else leaving the path clear for them to enter the Blackbird and escape this hellish situation.

But no, the police cars remained in place and Charles had not answered her pleading thoughts. Moira stared at the police cars trying to come up with a plan. She did not want to send anyone to stake out what could possibly be going on, but she was the unofficial leader of the strike team. It was up to her to find out what was going on. Moira crept to where Beast was crouching down.

"Beast," she whispered. "Out of all of us, you possess the most acrobatic skills to remain hidden. Go find out what's going on and let me know," Moria said, not looking at the young scientist.

Beast looked hard at the CIA agent beside him. Eventually, though, he nodded and made his way to the Blackbird. Banshee and Havok looked up sharply when they realized what Beast was doing. Both made their way to Moira and demanded what was going on.

"I haven't heard from Charles. And we need to know what is going on with these police cars. For all we know they could be taking him into custody," Moira said, trying very hard to remain unaffected by their harsh glances.

"The Professor said to remain where we were if anything happened. And you're sending Beast to check things out?" Havok said, disbelieving. He had set Scott down and told him to remain quiet while he went to talk to Moira.

"I haven't heard from him," was Moira's simple answer. Inside Moira, knew that she was playing with fire. Charles had told her in no uncertain terms to remain where they were if anything unusual happened. Moira bit her lip in worry and tried to maintain a calm demeanor.

Moira knew what she was doing. She knew that Charles was going to be upset with her. But she had sent Beast ahead anyway.

_Present Day 1963_

Slowly, ever so slowly, the group made their way out of the building and towards the spot where Charles had told them to go. They stopped periodically to let Kitty rest from carrying Bobby. Erik had set Moira down a time to give his arms and shoulders a break and immediately regretted it when Moira tried to walk by herself and almost ended up falling.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Erik said when he caught her. He immediately scooped her up and wouldn't let go of her.

"Walking, brainiac," she muttered while trying to unsuccessfully free herself of Erik's arms.

"Well, you're doing a poor job of walking, MacTaggert," Erik retorted and stood up with Moira weakly trying to fight back.

Moria growled. "Put me down," she said, trying to wiggle out of Erik's grasp.

"Make me. You're CIA, you've got the training," he said tightening his hold and immediately regretted it when the fight immediately left Moira. "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking directly in front of him instead of Moira.

Moira did not respond, a myriad of emotions passing over her face. She remained quiet, staring blankly until they were within seeing distance of the Blackbird. "This is much different from the last time we tried to break someone out of a facility," Moira stated simply.

Erik raised an eyebrow, about to ask her the question when Charles' voice popped into their heads.

**Stop and don't move, **his voice hissed in their minds..

Immediately everyone dropped to the ground and waited for Charles to give them the go ahead. (_This was not how it was six months ago_, Moira thought idly.)

Surprisingly enough, Erik's voiced popped into her head. (_How was it six months ago?)_

_(Worse. Much, much worse.)_

_Mid 1962_

Beast approached the police cars, hiding in shadows and pausing to listen for any signs of trouble. Closer and closer he went until he could see the Professor. Charles was surrounded by police officers chatting amiably with each other, until one nervous (and obviously new) officer spotted Beast in the reflection of one of the panels. Eyes wide, the officer turned instinctively, pulled out his gun and began shooting in Beast's direction.

From there, everything else went to hell. Other officers pulled out guns and began shooting in the general direction of where Beast was hidden. It had taken all of Charles' power to force them to stop immediately and then even more to make them forget.

By the time the others had arrived to help in the situation, Charles had taken control and was visibly shaking with anger. Anger that was directed straight at Moira.

Moira stood in the middle of the Blackbird. No one wanted to be near her as Charles stared her down. While no words were said out loud, everyone in the plane could hear what Charles was saying, no _shouting_at Moira.

And then, Moira passed out.

_Present day 1963_

**All right, everyone move onto the plane quickly, **Charles' voice snapped in their heads.

"What happened?" Logan said out loud.

**Later. Right now, just do as I say.**

Logan nodded grimly. They boarded the Blackbird and settled everyone into seats. Erik helped situate Moira and the kids and when he was finished walked to the cockpit seeing Hank in the pilot seat. When Hank caught sight of Erik, Hank growled softly. Erik merely nodded ignoring the threat and sat down behind him.

"Buckle up," Hank said barely keeping his voice civil.

"You're fucking blue," Logan exclaimed surprised when he came up front.

"And you'll be fucking dead if you don't sit down and shut up," Hank replied and lifted the plane off the ground.

"That was almost too easy," Erik remarked, a very bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Hank grunted. "It's easier than being shot several times," he growled and glanced back at Moira who wouldn't meet Hank's eyes. Erik blanched remembering the scene in Cuba. His eyes narrowed, flicking back to and forth between Hank and Moira."Did she shoot you?"

"No, but I was the cause, much like I was the one who paralyzed Charles," Moira said staring at her clenched fists.

Not a word was said all the way back to Westchester.

From his home, Bolivar Trask watched as the Blackbird flew away into the night sky. He pulled out a scrap of paper and checked off several names.

_Mid 1962_

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean, what am _I going to do?_"

"The Professor said to stay put until he told us otherwise but then Moira told you to go and investigate!"

"She did not know that they were going to open fire on me."

"Yeah, but she went against the Professor's orders!"

"Yes, but the Professor was not out in the field with us."

Silence reigned as the statement sunk in.

Moira did not hear the rest as Charles forced sleep upon her.

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><p><em>Reviews?<em>


	17. Chapter 17

_I'm so sorry for not updating. Obviously, I ran into a brick wall. And then other fandoms invaded my head space. And then it was Christmas, New Year's and what the hell am I doing? Yeah._

_So, yeah._

_I don't own anything._

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><p>"I'm not entirely sure what happened after that, but I can only guess that Charles put me to sleep," Moira said, her voice soft and speaking to no one in particular. "Charles must have done the mind wipe on me then."<p>

Erik glanced back at Moira. She was staring into space, dark eyes unreadable and unfocused, her hands neatly folded in front of her. Bobby was asleep on Kitty's shoulder, blissfully unaware, whereas the young woman looked distraught at Moira's words. Erik forced his gaze back to Hank and saw him staring.

Hank held Erik's eyes longer than Erik felt comfortable. "I never agreed to having Moira be mind wiped. Actually, I wasn't the only one who disagreed as well. And Charles knew that," Hank said, his gaze flicking back to the empty airspace in front of them.

Erik muttered something unintelligible and ran a hand through his hair.

Turning on the tracking device, Trask sat back and eagerly watched. He plotted the course the plane was taking and smiled.

He rubbed his hands together in glee. _Soon. Soon I will have my cure. _

Charles met them all in the sick bay in the sub-basement of the mansion. He was joined by Sean, Alex and Scott. Hank led the way for Logan, Erik, who still carried Moira, and Kitty who was helping Bobby move.

"Mr. Lehnsherr, I don't think he's getting any better," Kitty fearfully.

Hank knelt in front of Bobby. It was the first time Kitty had seen Hank in his natural form. She gasped, but managed to keep her composure when he glanced at her. "Bobby? My name is Doctor Hank McCoy. I'm going to try and help you, okay?" Hank said, looking into his eyes. "Can you tell me if you are in pain?"

Bobby could only stare at Hank uncertain.

"It's okay, Bobby. Dr. McCoy will try to help you," Kitty said standing next to Bobby. She placed her hand on his arm and pulled back as if burned. "Oh! He's freezing!"

Hank cocked an eyebrow at him and felt his forehead. He too pulled his hand back. Hank shook his head trying to shake the pain off.

"Bobby? Bobby are you feeling alright?" Hank tried again, this time even more gently than ever before. He went to pick up the boy when Moira spoke up.

"Let me down," Moira said to Erik. She wiggled out of his grasp, slapping Erik's hands away and approached Bobby.

"Bobby, do you have a special power?" Moira asked softly, gently brushing the hair out of his eyes, careful not to let her fingers linger on his forehead. Even though she did not touch him, Moira could feel the cold rolling off the young boy. _How exactly is this happening?_

Bobby shook his head and tried to avoid her gentle gaze.

"Are you sure?" Moira asked again kindly.

Bobby looked uncertain and shook his head again, unaccustomed to such tenderness.

Moira smiled. "Do you feel cold?"

Bobby shook his head again.

"How do you feel, my dear?" She said, switching tracks.

"It's too hot," Bobby finally said and fanned himself.

"Too hot? But it's 65 degrees in here," Hank said waving his hand frustrated.

"Hank," Moira said mildly, shooting him a look. She turned back to the young boy. "Would you like us to turn it down in here?"

Bobby nodded his head and edged slightly closer to her. Moira turned towards Charles who merely nodded at her. "It hurts," Bobby said softly.

"What hurts, honey?" Moira said dropping her voice and leaning towards the boy, "Everything," he replied. Suddenly, Bobby's eyes rolled back into his head as he dropped to the ground moaning in pain. He was in the fetal position as Moira kneeled beside him trying to pry him up off the ground. Hank, Erik and Alex had moved forward when Bobby let out an ear piercing wail. The temperature in the room dropped suddenly and dangerously. Everyone in the room gasped and started shivering. Moira, who was the closest to Bobby, was knocked backwards, whether from the force of the wail or from the sudden temperature drop no one knew for certain. She was on her side up against the wall and hurting all over.

Bobby was still whimpering and rolling around on the ground, his body a solid block of pale blue ice. Charles was on his side, his wheelchair a few feet away from him, his breath coming in quick gasps frosting in front o him. Erik was closer to the back was thrown flat on his back. He stared up at the curved ceiling trying to determine what just happened unconsciously shivering from the extreme change in temperature. Hank was the first to gingerly get up on his feet.

"Everyone okay?" Hank asked gritting his teeth while he looked around the room. Hank's eyes fell onto Bobby and Moira. Hank snarled softly and went to check on them.

Erik wondered if Hank knew just how dangerous he sounded. He wasn't about to find out. Erik wiggled his fingers and toes trying to figure out what might have triggered Bobby. _A lot of physical and emotional turmoil, to be sure, _Erik thought idly. _How exactly is human society supposed to deal with mutants if they cannot be counted on to act rationally? _

"Yeah, sure," Logan muttered. "What the fuck just happened?" Erik glanced over at the other man and saw him retract his claws back into his hands. His _metal_ claws. Erik's head was less foggy and he thought that they might have formerly been made of _bone_ instead of metal. _Society, indeed,_Erik scoffed.

"Ah, I believe the young man's power just manifested itself and we were the unfortunate ones - or lucky, depending on your point of view - to have witnessed it first hand," Charles said rubbing the back of his head. He propped himself up on his arms and began pulling himself towards his wheelchair. Erik blinked and righted the chair for him with a shift of his fingers.

Charles gave him a slight glare before pulling himself into the chair.

Erik had enough grace to look ashamed.

"Moira? Are you okay?" Kitty asked her softly. She was still in her thin hospital gown and Erik could see how cold she was. How cold both she and Moira looked.

"Sean, go get sweatshirts for Moira and Kitty," Erik snapped.

Sean glared at him but did as he was told. All eyes were on Erik now.

"What's he doing here?" Alex said crossing his arms. Erik narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. He did not want to fight them here and now...

"I'm not going to fight you," Erik growled.

"There will be no fighting in my house," Charles said, his voice booming in the cavernous room. "At least while I am still alive." He looked at each person in the room to make sure his message was clear.

Erik did not know if he was the first to look away. He should have never have come here.

_You are always welcome in my house, Erik, _Charles said directly into his mind, cutting short the dangerous thoughts.

_Thank you._Erik did not miss the slight stiffness in Charles' voice. Nor did Erik chide him for delving straight into his mind without asking permission.

_Now, we have matters to discuss, _Charles thought adding to the tension Erik already felt. Charles ran a hand through his hair adding to his currently unkempt look.

Suddenly, Moira screamed in pain, clutching her belly.

"Miss Moira!" Kitty screamed limping to her side. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, god! Not the baby!" Moira said convulsing once again before passing out from the pain.

Trask knew the risk he was taking by letting them take Moira MacTaggert away. Once MacTaggert stopped receiving the serum that he was creating, it would not take too long for the woman to start experiencing the pain. He smiled cruelly before rearranging his face into something more benign and fatherly. He had to break eggs in order to create something _beautiful._

He picked up the phone.

"Cordelia, could you please call Lawrence and Tanya? Tell them that their father would like to speak with them," he said pleasantly. In his head, he played out the his plans to cure his children and win back their mother and his wife. Surely, Abigail would take him back once he cured his own children of the terrible disease they labored under.

Hank leapt to his feet easily picked Moira up, running to the lab to check on her and the baby. He started shooting Erik questions as he went about trying to assess what was wrong.

"How long have you been sleeping with her?" Hank didn't bother glaring at Erik who was fast on his heels.

"We only slept together once," Erik shot back. He knew Charles could hear everything McCoy was asking him.

"Are you sure?" Hank paused and gave Erik a very stern look.

"Yes, I'm sure," Erik said through gritted teeth.

"Has she been taking her pre-natal vitamins? Does she have any allergies? Are you sure that was only time that you slept with her? What's her blood type? Does she smoke? Does she drink?"

"I don't know if she's been taking care of herself, but knowing her she probably has been taking her vitamins. I don't know if she has any allergies. I slept with her about three months ago," Erik shot back. He shrugged when McCoy fixed him with another look. "It was under...less than ideal circumstances."

_You were right Hank. It was Erik who was in the mansion that night three months ago, _Charles' voice interjected into Hank and Erik's minds, more than a little bitter.

"How did you get in?" Hank growled finally turning to face Erik. Erik took a step backwards, practically running into Charles.

"Later, Hank," Charles said sternly and lightly pushing Erik away from him. "Find out what's wrong with Moira."

McCoy nodded tersely and went back to examining Moira. He was muttering to himself when Erik felt a small hand slip into his. Startled, Erik looked down to see Kitty Pryde standing there wide-eyed and frightened.

Erik pushed the frown from his face and knelt down beside her, ignoring Charles' curious stares. "I thought Sean was getting you something warmer to wear," he said softly.

Kitty nodded. "They experimented on us down there," she said solemnly. Bobby Drake was laying on the examination table beside Moira, his eyelashes fluttering as if in a deep sleep. "They injected us with various things and took samples of our blood. It hurt," Kitty continued shivering from the memory.

"Do you remember what they injected you with?" Alex asked her also kneeling.

Kitty shook her head. Sean appeared at her side and handed her a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

"Thank you," Kitty said softly not thinking, "Dr. Trask was always yelling at us. Saying something about needing to cure his children."

"Did you say Dr. Trask?" Scott asked and automatically grabbed Kitty's wrist. Kitty, not thinking used her power and Scott's hand went right through her.

"Cool!" Scott said forgetting his question briefly.

"My dear," Charles said wheeling up to the foursome. "Dr. Trask, did you say?" Erik glanced up at Charles, trying to read his mind. Erik felt his rage begin to boil again. This _man, _ this _doctor_ had experimented on _children_ and had done _something_to Moira.

"Yes," Kitty said solemnly. Charles' expression darkened considerably and a tense hush fell in the room.

"What do you know of Trask?" Erik asked tersely and standing up.

"He was the one who ran the orphanage that I was in," Scott offered, looking up at Erik.

"And obviously, he was the one who ran that lab down in Georgia," Alex said.

"What do you know of him?" Charles asked finally looking at Erik.

"He was the one who broke into my room, three months ago," Erik said through gritted teeth. "He seemed to want to 'recruit' me for something."

"Yeah, that's how he convinced me," Logan said standing off a little bit away. "Said he could help me recover my memories. Fucking bastard, I should have never believed him. How many other mutants did he con with that lie?"

"There's more of us?" Kitty pipped up. Erik did not miss the hint of hope in her eyes.

"Yes, my dear, there are," Charles said, smiling gently. "And it seems that they all have different types of abilities too."

"Really?" Kitty said, her eyes still wide.

"Yes, really," Charles said still smiling at her. He then refocused his attention back to Hank who was still working on Moira. "Sean, would you be kind enough to show our new guests where they will be staying? We'll have to send you out for clothing and other supplies later on, yes?"

"Yes, Professor," Sean said taking the hint. "Come on, Miss Kitty," Sean said playfully. "You can't be standing around here all day. Besides you must be hungry. You too, Mr. Logan," he said.

"Just Logan," he growled.

"Of course," Sean said not missing a beat. "Come on, let me see what I can cook for you."

"We'd better go too," Alex said, nudging Scott. "Who knows, Sean might accidentally kill them with his cooking."

"I heard that!" Sean called back. Erik appreciated the effort Sean and Alex were making, though he knew that the boys, _No young men,_would be taking Erik aside for a chat.

Alex merely rolled his eyes and followed leaving Erik and Charles with Moira and Hank.

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><p><em>Reviews are nice, but not completely necessary for my emotional well being.<em>


	18. Chapter 18

_Yes, I know._

_Hush. The Muse has been plodding along._

_You know the drill._

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><p>Afterwards, when Sean and Alex had shown Kitty and Logan to their rooms with Scott as their enthusiastic and talkative guide did the boys have a chance to discuss what had happened.<p>

"Well? Do you trust him?" Alex said cutting to the chase. He leaned against a tree and looked back at the house, wary of others listening in. Alex pushed himself off the tree, wandering around before finally sitting down next to Sean.

"Oh, hell no," Sean responded just as quickly. They were sitting on the far edge of the Xavier estate overlooking one of the many ponds dotting the northern edge. The quiet of the woods did nothing to ease their uneasiness. "I don't trust him at all." Sean was quiet for a second or two before saying, "And I don't think that Logan guy trusts him either."

"Yeah, I picked up on that too," Alex said. His hands were itching to do something. But they had been regulated (once again) to back of Charles Xavier's mind. Alex hated Lehnsherr even more for taking away the Professor's attention from them. And yes, if he thought long and hard about it, Alex Summers was intensely jealous of Erik Lehnsherr. But he could not process this bit of information and thus kept it to himself. Alex promised himself to bring it up later with Sean.

"We're going to have to be on our toes around him, you know," Sean finally said. "We can't let Hank know. He seems to have his hands busy with Moira and the new kid," he said a little ruefully.

Alex nodded. He hated keeping secrets, especially from Hank, but he did not see another way out of this current situation. For the time being Alex and Sean sat silently side by side and let the time pass.

Hank worked furiously to stabilize Moira finally succeeding after several hard hours. He sat across from Moira's bed, cleaning his glasses and thinking over what had happened. _This certainly does not make any sense_, Hank thought as he cleaned his glasses. Moira occasionally jerked on the bed struggling with an unknown dream assailant. She had not regained consciousness since Bobby manifested his powers and that was troubling to young Dr. McCoy.

He glanced over to the other table where Bobby lay prone. His eyes were still closed and Bobby looked to all the world that he was sleeping peacefully. Hank hazarded a guess that Bobby was in fact passed out, exhausted from the manifestation of his power. His forehead wrinkled in thought. Hank had a hard time processing his own physical manifestation of his mutation and that was just about a year ago. How in the world could Bobby, age ten at best, be coping? _It would be nice to have another expert on mutation on staff...especially a psychiatrist. _

Hank placed the thought on a back burner. These were best researched later. He turned his attention back to Moira who had finally settled, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. Hank stood up, taking a warm damp towel and cleaned her face carefully.

Several people had answers that Hank McCoy needed. He opted for Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier to answer his questions first. Hank frowned, deep in thought, dreading the answers he might get.

After the others had departed for various parts of the mansion, Erik Lehnshserr was left with a very silent, very livid Charles Xavier. For several long minutes Charles stared down Erik. But to Charles' credit, he did not use his telepathy to invade Erik's mind to discover the answers Charles surely wanted. And to Erik's credit he took Charles' stony treatment with as much humility and grace as he could muster.

He looked about the library and noticed the chessboard where they had left it. Erik tried not to think about his last night here and the consequences of his actions. His words seemed to haunt him as they swirled around in his head. Erik could not change his past, did not _want_ to change his past. But he could still help shape his own future.

"Erik," Charles said, bringing the other man out of his thoughts.

"Charles," Erik said softly, his eyes snapping to the other man.

"Erik," Charles replied back, his face still hard with anger.

"What do you want me to say?" Erik said wishing he had his helmet on to block Charles' probing thoughts, but knowing that Charles wouldn't invade his privacy.

"I don't know. What do you have to say to me?"

"You're not making this easy," Erik said gritting his teeth and standing straighter.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm supposed to make this easy for _you_, am I?" Charles said, his face beginning to flush with color.

"I...I'm sorry Charles," Erik said and sank into a chair. "I'm so so sorry."

Charles continued to stare at Erik before leaving the room.

Moria was hovering between consciousness and not. She could barely hear what was going on around her. But if she concentrated Moira could penetrate the thoughts of those around her. _Is this how Charles uses his telepathy? Can he not shut it off?_ Moira took a breath. _What the fuck is going on?_

_Hello, Mother._

* * *

><p><em>*shrugs*<em>

_I'm sorry for the short chapter. I was spurred into uploading. _

_Thank you, anon._

_As always, reviews are nice, but not necessary to my mental well-being._


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